BloodBound
by Shanne
Summary: It had been two weeks since they’d lost their most prized weapon… the prophesized child that should rid the world of its greatest threat, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived… Two weeks since the Order lost Harry Potter to darkness. HPDM slash. Vamp!fic
1. Chapter 1

**General warnings: **

1) This fic deals with **not-so-friendly language**, **blood** and **SLASH**. Slash as in boy/boy relationships, comprendre? Not your cup of tea, then go get coffee. _No_ flames accepted. **You have been warned.**

2) English is _not_ my mother tongue so please excuse possible mistakes and kindly point them out so that I may actually learn from them.

**Notes:**

1) Since I haven't read the HP books in English, I might have some of the spells and characters spelled wrong, as well as some of the magical creatures.

2) The characters will be slightly OOC, but you'll see how that comes to be in future chapters.

3) Deathly Hollows non-compliant.

**Disclaimer:**I own my dog, my computer, my CAE certificate… wait, what? Oh, Harry Potter? Sorry, no, _don't own_ him…Wish I did though… Unless J.K. Rowling takes a little pity on a brain-dead weirdo like myself.

**Summary:**It had been two weeks since they'd lost their most prized weapon… the prophesized child that should rid the world of its greatest threat, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived… Two weeks since the Order lost Harry Potter to darkness. HPDM slash. Vamp!fic

* * *

**Blood-Bound **

**Chapter 1**

Four weeks had passed since the Light lost its leader to the business end of a loyal subject. Three weeks had passed since the wizarding world saw death take Albus Dumbledore, thus landing a low blow on their world, throwing everyone in a chasm of confusion and fear.

It was two weeks later that Light took yet another blow, this one as hard, if not harder than the previous. It had been three weeks since they'd lost their most prized weapon… the prophesized child that should rid the world of its greatest threat, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived… Two weeks since the Order of the Phoenix lost Harry Potter to darkness.

The blow was harder still, as they had no one to blame but themselves. Lost in their grief and tears for their Light Lord, the Order crumbled as it had failed once again to protect its savior from the dark side's reach. Yet if fate had a choice the word of Harry Potter's fall would not reach the wizarding world's ears.

But still… moral was low within the Order's headquarters where one clearly angered Alastor Moody sat in front of the kitchen fireplace along with a crying Molly Weasley and a grim-looking Remus Lupin. Moody's magical eye was trained towards the kitchen corner, on a dirty-looking counter on top of which a dark figure sat, shadows obscuring it from prying eyes. It looked like a teenager that had curled into himself there, a mop of unruly dark hair flopping on his knees where he hid his face from the rest of the world. The figure made no movements and seemed oblivious to the glances everybody sent his way.

And then the fireplace burst into green flames, causing everyone to jump, drawing the teenager to the present along. He jumped down from the counter, trainers hitting the floor soundlessly, shadows obscuring him still, eyes briefly reflecting the emerald fire before turning down from the light, waiting for the newcomer to step through the portal.

And indeed, almost immediately two figures stepped through; both of them clad in black cloaks, yet only one of them resembled a overgrown bat, while the other resembled the ideal prince, clad in expensive clothes and a strong, confident posture that seemed to have no dent in it whatsoever.

"Severus," Molly and Remus greeted while Alastor merely grunted and the teenager's head snapped up to survey the guests, not uttering a sound all the while, but his brow creasing in something akin to anger, confusion and control.

Severus Snape, Hogwarts greasy git and all around a not very loved teacher, bowed his head nearly imperceptibly in greeting, his eyes fixed on the ex-Auror. "I trust you know the truth by now?" he inquired, his entire posture cool and collected as he unflinchingly met Moody's magical eye that pinned him to the spot.

Mad-Eye looked at him, trying to gauge a reaction from the infuriating Potions Master. He received none and he nodded once. "Aye, we know where your loyalties lay. Dumbledore's man to the very end," he agreed, drawing a growl from the up to this point silent teenager.

All eyes trained on him, some pairs trying to decide how he'll react further, not knowing what to expect while two pairs of eyes tried to identify him. "You can't be serious," he growled, his voice hoarse as if it hadn't been used in a while.

Snape merely scowled and turned to face Moody once again. "I want you to keep Mr. Malfoy here for the duration of the summer…"

"No," the teenager snapped and walked out of the shadows.

Neither Snape nor Draco recognized the boy at first sight. He was about Malfoy's age, 'blessed' with an unruly mop of midnight-colored hair that oddly suited him. The hair alone reminded both of them of Potter, but this boy had no ugly spectacles covering is brilliant emerald eyes, pools which caught thelight and seemed to hold it in their depths. He was nowhere near a scrawny short teen, but tall built, though he seemed weakened by illness and his skin was paler than death itself, more so as the young man's dark clothes emphasized the unnatural lack of pigment. And then there was his posture. Potter's posture was always defiant, always confident and always open. This stranger looked submissive, closed off and, while confident, it was nowhere near Potter's infuriating manner.

"You keep to yourself, boy!" Alastor snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously at the teen.

The teenager shook his head, his fringe flopping aside, revealing a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, causing Draco's entire posture to tense and Snape's scowl to deepen.

"Harry," Lupin softly spoke in what he wanted to be a placating manner, but Potter didn't seem to have heard him.

"No. I will not allow a pair of… of _murderers_ to stay in Sirius' house," he snapped in a scathing tone.

"I see, Mr. Potter, that you still try to protect your dogfather's image, but you forget that he was a good for nothing mutt. He couldn't help actively and he got himself killed. You must be so pro-" Snape said but was unable to continue as a heavy weight swiftly crashed into him and pinned him to the ground.

He looked up as a hand pressed firmly onto his neck, cutting off air supply. Snape's onyx eyes met Potter's nearly gold-en… eyes. Shit!

"Potter!" Moody bellowed angrily. "Get off him!"

But Harry's anger had gotten the best of him and he wasn't listening anymore. All he was aware of was the burning pain and anger that clawed their way within his chest, bringing forward memories he never wanted to dwell on. And then all he could feel was nearly total loss of control over his entire being because there was a living, breathing, warm body underneath him and he ached… Oh, Merlin, he ached so bad… All he needed was one taste of the warm flesh beneath…

Draco watched in nearly morbid fascination as Potter straddled his godfather's hips, godfather whose eyes held a hint of fear, a feat not many accomplished, let alone the Potter brat single-handedly. He watched as Potter started to lean in as if… as if… Was Potter going to _kiss_ Snape?

Malfoy shuddered at the thought alone, but then something else happened and Draco would later swear that it would be a turning point in his life… the point where he shoved years of forced animosity in the back of his mind and actually feel pity for his school nemesis.

"Ardere!" Mad-Eye commanded, pointing his wand at Potter who instantly jumped back and hissed at the ex-Auror, menacingly showing off a pair of razor-sharp fangs that descended from his upper gums and passed his lower lip only slightly, golden eyes that shone with supernatural power firmly trained on the older wizard.

Draco was stunned… frozen in place, his mind unwilling to comprehend the fact that Harry-Now-Literally-Bloody-Potter was a goddamned vampire. He was dimly aware of the blood-traitor, Weasley, bursting into tears and that the werewolf had jumped from his place, knocking his chair backward as he did so.

"Ardere," Moody snapped again, but Potter dodged the spell this time, jumping aside and backward, hitting the wall as he did so, returning to his normal form and Draco caught only a hint of golden that remained intertwined with the natural emerald of his eyes before the boy looked down, his entire posture hinting towards defeat and resignation.

He looked hurt, scared and lost and Malfoy's heart went out to the poor creature. After all… he _was_ intimately aware of what a vampire's life was like and he didn't wish that to anybody. Well… maybe the Dark Lord could do with a trip down that lane. But that would make him immortal and that would beat the whole purpose of the Order.

Lupin walked towards the vampire and stretched a hand towards him but before he could touch the teen, Harry flinched away and pulled back further, not raising his eyes to meet those of anybody in the room. The werewolf tried again, with the same results, Potter reaching the door this time. He grabbed the handle and turned it, but paused to look back into the almost indifferent eyes of his Potions professor. "I'm sorry," he softly spoke, voice cracking slightly before he fled the room, snapping the door shut behind him.

"Oh, Merlin!" Mrs. Weasley sobbed, burying her face in her hands and continued crying.

Lupin racked his hands through his hair and sighed in defeat while Moody grunted and shook his head. Snape and Draco on the other hand… their eyes were fixed on the door, shocked deeply by the sudden turn of events.

"Dear Merlin, Mad-Eye! You _have_ to let him feed at least once. Can't you see what it's doing to him?" Lupin cried, desperation clear in his tone.

"I will not let that creature take control!" Moody roared.

This was apparently a very usual discussion in the household, Draco noticed. The werewolf seemed to hold no hope for it ending with any results while the ex-Auror seemed almost bored with the situation. And then the words suddenly clicked into Malfoy's head and he felt cold rage course through his veins.

"Pardon me, but did you just say that you're starving him?" Draco asked, his voice neutral as was his expression. There was nothing on his face that betrayed his emotions, nothing on the surface that would point towards his impressions of seeing the Boy-Who-Lived.

"He can learn to control it!" Remus bellowed, as though Draco hadn't said a word, his gaze firmly stuck on Moody.

"Oh, I'm sure he can. He's completely out of control and there's only a matter of time before the bloodlust gets the better of him. What do you s'ppose we do when that happens, Remus?"

"You don't feed him?" Malfoy cut in sharply once more before Lupin could retort, causing the werewolf to turn towards him, his expression softening only slightly. "We do, Mr. Malfoy… But it's human blood he needs. Alastor forbade him to touch another human being or to accept human blood from anyone. He's surviving on animal blood."

Draco closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. How could these people be so irrevocably_ stupid_ was beyond him.

"How long since he has been turned?" Snape joined in, his voice dangerously low, causing Draco to inwardly wince.

Snape did not shout or even remotely raise his voice when he was bordering on homicidal, but his voice caught an almost deadly sort of calmness that chilled you to the very bone and often caused first year Hufflepuffs to start crying.

"Close to two weeks," Molly piped in, wiping the tears off of her face.

"Dear Merlin," Draco mumbled. "What have you been feeding him?"

"Pig's blood," Remus answered tiredly. "It's the closest thing I could find to human blood but-"

"His body rejects it," Malfoy cut in and Lupin nodded miserably. "I can't believe you! You're practically killing him!" he yelled, immediately squashing the little voice that helpfully pointed out that it was bloody _Potter_ he was standing up for.

"He's a vampire. An evil creature. You can't expect us to-" Moody began only to be stopped mid-rant by the Potions Master.

"So is Lupin," Snape said and Moody paused, obviously thrown off balance by the sudden new perspective.

"Have you any idea what you've been doing to him?" Draco asked, trying to keep his temper in check. At the uncertain pause that filled the room he continued: "Potter's like a new-born! Human blood is like mother's milk to him, you can't deprive him of it because of your misguided and twisted beliefs about dark creatures. Put it this way… Would you try feeding an infant a stake when he can't eat, but can only drink fluids?"

Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder. Lupin slumped into a chair, his face unusually pale, eyes turning accusingly towards Mad-Eye who seemed troubled for the first time that night. Draco felt an odd wave of satisfaction swell in him at having accomplished this feat.

"I strongly suggest that we find Potter a willing donor while-" Severus started speaking, but Malfoy, having finished his speech, edged towards the door and slipped out of the kitchen, carefully taking out his wand from his robe pocket.

"Point me Harry Potter," he whispered and the wand slowly turned towards some stairs hidden in the shadows that seemed to go up to the upper levels of the house.

Malfoy followed the wand's point quietly and carefully, blending in the shadows almost naturally despite his pale complexion that should have stated otherwise. He soon came face to face with a dark door on which he gently, almost inaudibly knocked before twisting the handle and opening is.

"Go away," said Potter from the general direction of the bed.

Draco entered the room and returned his wand back in his pocket before carefully proceeding towards the bed, eyes scanning his surroundings for the vampire. "Potter," he called out.

"Go _away_, Malfoy," Harry hissed, drawing the Slytherin's eyes between the bed and the bedside table which was slightly shoved away, Potter having taken residence between the furniture, knees drawn to his chest and head resting on them, obviously trying to make himself as small as humanly –or vampirically, as the case goes- possible.

"No," Draco stubbornly stated, kneeling before the Gryffindor Golden Boy, careful as to not make any sudden movements. "I want to help you," he continued, surprised by the gentleness in his voice.

"Why the hell would you care?" Harry lashed out wildly, his hand missing Draco's face by mere inches, his eyes tinted golden.

Draco maintained his calm. Potter was skittish and lonely… No use in aggravating the whole situation. "I don't care," he finally drawled. "But I know what it's like to be you." That caught Potter's attention, who turned to look at his blond nemesis with wide, thankfully jade eyes. "I know how the hunger, the thirst manifests itself… How it burns you from the inside-out so slowly that you sometimes think it might drive you insane. I know how you crave human touch and I know how much you need someone to just _be_ there."

Harry stared at him, his expression torn between the desire to reach out and the fear of losing control over himself. Draco waited patiently for him to come to terms with his statements, eyes never leaving Potter's.

"How do you know all that," he finally asked, his voice wary, yet an undertone of hopefulness could be detected there.

"My aunt," Draco whispered sincerely, yet he didn't go into further details.

Harry looked at him, not saying a word. Malfoy waited to see if there were any more questions forthcoming. There weren't.

"I want you to come out of there, Potter," Draco said gently, as though he was talking to an infant… which he was, he realized. Potter didn't move at all. Draco took a deep breath and extended one hand, palm raised upwards invitingly. "Please?"

A fleeing emotion crossed Harry's features for a moment, but it passed too quickly for the Slytherin to catalogue it. But that didn't matter, because Potter's hand reached out ever so slowly, almost as if he was afraid that any sudden movements would cause him pain. Draco grasped his hand, and tugged towards him while leaning back on his heels, ready to get up. Potter followed his lead and stood a little wobbly on his feet, gaze never leaving Draco's face, almost afraid even.

Malfoy then pushed Potter on the bed, the Gryffindor going down with a surprised gasp. Draco suddenly felt nervous about what he was about to do, but went calmly through the motions of taking off his robe and draping it across a chair, one hand already moving to unbutton his dark shirt before he sat unashamedly in Harry's lap, straddling his hips and locking his gray eyes with jade ones. Potter tensed, eyes flashing golden for a fleeing moment.

"You need human blood," Draco stated simply, hands caressing Potter's body, earning a shudder from the vampire who was slowly, yet surely losing control of his darker nature… the one that basked in human contact and that craved for more, no matter who it came from.

Draco's right hand came to rest entangled in raven locks while the other cupped Potter's cheek, forcing the creature to look the blond in the eye. "You need human blood," the Slytherin repeated. "And I am offering it freely to you."

If Potter had been tense before, it was nothing compared to how rigid his body went at the words. He tried pushing Draco away, but Malfoy firmly stood his ground, eyes never leaving Harry's which were now whirlpools of emotion. There was a pure animal look in his golden orbs, a look readily described in two-bit research and half-cocked romance novels. The bloodlust. It was there, right under the surface and Harry was fighting it with all his willpower.

"Listen to me!" Draco snapped and all squirming ceased. "I am offering my blood _willingly_. You either accept that or I'll give you the following choice: either you take it… or I slit a vein and you'll be forced to take it," Draco said, voice deadly serious.

Harry closed his eyes as a shiver coursed through his body and nervously nodded. Draco gulped slightly before carefully guiding Potter's mouth to his neck. Harry shivered again and pressed his lips against Malfoy's jugular, feeling the blood pulsing, calling to him. He swallowed nervously before tentatively licking the little patch of flesh, tasting Draco and basking in the scent and the feel and the smell of another. He licked the spot again before sinking razor-sharp fangs into the flesh.

Draco gasped and groaned as Harry's fangs pierced him, sending both waves of pain and pleasure careering throughout his body. He absently tightened his hand in Potter's hair, pressing him closer, knowing they both needed the contact. Potter exhaled a long breath through his nose, taking another mouthful of the precious blood as he did so, enjoying the feel of Draco's beating heart within him and the nutriment that was drawn into his own body, mixing essences together.

Draco's breath slowed down, as did his heartbeat and Harry knew he'd have to stop soon because he had to keep Draco alive. Draco who had willingly fed him his own blood… Draco who was supposed to be his enemy. Draco the Death Eater who couldn't kill Dumbledore.

Before he knew it, before he'd made a conscious decision, Harry pulled back and licked the tiny puncture marks, healing the wounds on his victim's neck, eliciting a small gasp from the blond. Potter then drew away, eyes searching Malfoy's who met them slightly dazedly. His head was swimming with blood loss and Harry shifted until he got the Slytherin off his back and lay on the bed before laying beside him, carefully listening to his heartbeat, his sense running wild throughout his body, extending as though they had no boundaries.

He waited until Draco's breath evened out before closing his eyes himself and allowing his being to extend and explore his newfound power with a small smile spread on his face.

**T.B.C.**

* * *

Okay, I really want to know if I should continue writing this. Depending on the response I'll keep the fic going. If not… Well, it'll most probably be taken down.


	2. Chapter 2

**General warnings: **

1) This fic deals with **not-so-friendly language**, **blood** and **SLASH**. Slash as in boy/boy relationships, comprendre? Not your cup of tea, then go get coffee. _No_ flames accepted. **You have been warned.**

2) English is _not_ my mother tongue so please excuse possible mistakes and kindly point them out so that I may actually learn from them. But, that may not be a problem thanks to my beta: Kimberly at LJ

**Notes:**

1) Since I haven't read the HP books in English, I might have some of the spells and characters spelled wrong, as well as some of the magical creatures.

2) The characters will be slightly OOC, but you'll see how that comes to be in future chapters.

3) Deathly Hollows non-compliant.

**Disclaimer:**I own my dog, my computer, my CAE certificate… wait, what? Oh, Harry Potter? Sorry, no, _don't own_ him…Wish I did though… Unless J.K. Rowling takes a little pity on a brain-dead weirdo like myself.

**Summary:**It had been two weeks since they'd lost their most prized weapon… the prophesized child that should rid the world of its greatest threat, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived… Two weeks since the Order lost Harry Potter to darkness. HPDM slash. Vamp!fic

* * *

**Blood-Bound **

**Chapter 2**

_He was cold. Merlin, he was so _cold_… His body was trembling almost violently and Harry briefly wondered if it was normal to be freezing like this in a mere room. He never felt like this even in the dungeons at Hogwarts… Then again, there was magic inside _those _walls__. Potter was pretty sure that magic had stopped flowing throughout this building decades ago. He could feel the tell-tale crackle and sizzle of magic in the air, but it was so faint he could easily forget about it and focus on his own misery… Which sadly brought him back to being cold._

_He lay on a soft bed, wrapped in burgundy-colored sheets that couldn't seem to be able to raise his body temperature and Harry briefly wondered if he would suddenly see puffs of foggy breath when he exhaled._

_A slight snap drew his attention to the far side of the room where a fire was burning merrily, casting dancing shadows on the walls and obscuring corners where Harry knew that shadows lurked, although what sort of shadows, he did not know. _

_A shiver wracked his body. _

_A whisper echoed in behind him, on the other side of the chamber. _

_It caused his entire being to freeze with something akin to terror._

_How did he get here? How was it that he was so cold? Why was he so _weak

_And the answer came to him: he was dreaming. It was one of those really vivid dreams that haunted you even in waking hours, even days later… A nightmare that he'd soon wake up from only to discover that he was back in his room at Number 4 Privet Drive, covered in scratchy white sheets, on an uncomfortable bed, the sun slipping silently into the room, crawling easily on the carpet towards the room's interior. _

_But not even his most realistic dreams revolved around such a mysterious aura and not even in his most terrifying nightmares did he feel so helpless… so bare… Well, unless you counted death visions from Voldemort._

_The bed suddenly dipped behind him and Harry tensed much as his weakened body would allow it. Cold fingers caressed his skin on the back of his neck and another wave of shivers ran through him, chilling him further. Harry tried to roll away, to get away from the unfamiliar touch, but found his body nearly unresponsive. _

_The fingers traced light patterns on his skin from the nape of his neck to his Adam's apple and then upwards, briefly caressing his chapped lips on their way towards the round spectacles that aided the Gryffindor's vision. The hand pulled the glasses away, throwing Harry into a world of blurry shapes, mercilessly rending him defenseless before swiftly and easily pulling him into a sitting position. _

_Harry gasped and tried pulling away. To no avail. A cold hand kept him upright while another draped a black silk scarf over his eyes, cutting off all light and possibility of doing any defending. Harry stilled, an insane part of his mind calmly pointing out that he was behaving like an animal that needed to be blindfolded in order not to lash out. The hand that kept him still moved upwards, tugging at the scarf and tying it behind Harry's head with oddly gentle movements that did nothing to qualm the anxiety building within the Gryffindor._

_A phial was suddenly pressed to his lips. Harry clamped his mouth shut tightly, moving his head aside only to have the previously gentle hand roughly yank him by the hair, pulling his head back and causing the young man to gasp. A tactical error on the Gryffindor's part, seeing as liquid was forcefully poured down his throat. Harry choked. He tried spitting the substance back, only to have his mouth firmly sealed by the same cold hand that was sure to leave bruises._

"_Shh," a voice whispered and Harry bit back a sob because _fuck!_ He'd be damned before he'd show any sign of being weak._

_He could feel the previouisly lacked strength return to his body… could feel his heart beating a little faster, pouring the scarce amount of energy left inside of him, out, warming him his earlier cold body. Harry started squirming, an attempt to break free from the stranger's hold on him._

_The unfamiliar person chuckled as he licked the juncture between the boy's neck and shoulder while the sheet was yanked away from Harry's upper body, forcing the wizard to suddenly become aware of two things, he couldn't before realise, and they shook him to the core:_

_That this situation he was thrown into was, in fact, _not_ in his head, but a real life dream;_

_He was naked as the day he was born underneath those sheets, and that little fact alone sent his mind reeling with dread of what was to come/_

_As if the stanger was tuned into his mind, the bed shifted, one hand caressing Harry's bare chest and lowering towards his abdomen, while cold lips crashing onto the Gryffindor's. Harry was petrified, his mind grinding to a screeching halt. No, no, no, no, nononono NO! This couldn't be real, not real._

"_It would be easier if you relaxed," the voice spoke and Harry realized that it was a male's voice._

_Dear_ God, _what had he gotten himself into?_

_He tried pulling away and found that he couldn't. It was as though his body wasn't in his control anymore, and -what was worse- he noticed his body reacting slightly to the touches…_

_Harry then felt himself being laid back, hot tears wetting the silk scarf…_

_No, no, no, no, no, no_, NO!

* * *

Harry woke with a strangled gasp, the light of day burning his eyes, giving him the feel of hundreds of little bees trying to sting his retinas. He hissed and hid his face in the pillow while letting out a shuddering breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

'_It's only a memory_,' he told himself reassuringly. '_It's in the past, let it _go'.

He spent a few more minutes there, in his close to dream state, before turning his face towards the light, eyelids closed, allowing himself time to adjust to the morning sliver of light streaming discreetly on the moth-eaten carpet, reflecting slightly in the room. Harry then opened brilliant green eyes and surveyed his surroundings. He was in his room… alone… in his bed… with no dark shadows lurking beyond his strung senses. He was _safe_.

The Gryffindor breathed a sigh of relief and turned on his back, looking at the ceiling and not really seeing it, pushing older memories aside and trying to recall last night's events. He remembered jumping Snape, the bloodlust and the burning hex Moody cast on him… He remembered Malfoy coming up to his room and…

Harry bolted upright and began pacing the room, careful to avoid the sunlight. Much as he hated being a vampire, he had no wish to get himself burned to a crisp. He was openly afraid of fire, his supernatural nature instating that weakness and nurturing it.

Potter then stopped still and turned his head towards the door, inwardly berating himself for his weakness. Merlin, how could he lose control like that? How could he bite another human being when he swore to himself that he'd never do that? Sure, Malfoy had _said_ that he was offering a feast willingly, but Harry could remember the tense muscles and the rapid heartbeat that were only accompanied by fear and apprehension.

Dear Lord, how was he going to face everybody? By now all the Order must have found out about his slipping reign on the bloodlust. And Malfoy? Harry's blood ran cold at the mere though. How was he going to look his nemesis in the eye after the whole fiasco? And Snape must have heard about it and Harry was not looking forward to being ground up for potions ingredients. The boy shuddered, but he felt oddly at peace with the idea of being eliminated as a threat… He feared fire and sunlight with a passion, but… Death had its appeal and Harry wasn't above ruling it out.

Taking in a deep breath, Harry walked warily towards the door and turned the knob, soundlessly stepping outside the security of his room. He was going to face the consequences of his actions sooner or later… Might as well make it at seven in the bloody morning when there was less of a chance of having a huge audience to the confrontations.

He _almost_ felt as though he was dreaming… as though he was passively watching what happened to someone else from afar, the apprehension and the memory of last night's dream molding together into a nearly full-blown panic. He was nearly hyperventilating by the time he'd reached the bottom of the stairs, but he forced himself calm by the time he reached the kitchen door.

He pushed the door open but a searing pain forced him to retract his hand and hastily step into the shadows, bumping into someone in his haste. Harry jumped back and pressed himself into the wall, all the while protecting his head as if expecting to receive a hard blow.

"Shh, Harry, it's okay," Remus' voice soothed and the vampire's haywire senses felt a presence cautiously reach out to him.

Potter lowered his arms slightly and peered up through his raven fringe, golden eyes meeting Lupin's hurt amber ones. Harry felt a pang of regret for putting that look in the werewolf's eyes and wished -not for the first time since his Turning- that his Sire had killed him rather than allowing him to live eternity.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely and Lupin nodded understandingly before pulling out his wand with calculated movements, allowing Harry time to adjust to the movements and decide if he felt threatened by the other creature. Harry made no movement though, seemingly resigned to whatever should happen to him.

"I'm going to cast a little spell on you, now," Lupin informed him and waited for his friend's son to nod before actually placing the charm on the vampire.

The Gryffindor felt the magic tickle his skin pleasantly, adjusting and molding to his body before settling down like an obedient pet, becoming nearly impossible to detect. Harry looked at Lupin questioningly and Remus freely offered him an explanation: "It will protect you from the sun… allow you to go out during the daytime without feeling any aftereffects."

Harry's mouth fell open and he turned his head to look almost longingly at the bright light that streamed through a crack between the kitchen door and the threshold. He edged closer, but stopped before any of his body parts could once more come in contact with the burning rays. Lupin placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before gently nudging Harry forward.

The boy tentatively reached out and let the light fall onto his pale fingers, body tense, waiting for the searing pain to momentarily incapacitate him… But no results were forthcoming. He quickly cast a glance at Remus who smiled sadly at the teenager who stepped forward and opened the door, wincing slightly as the brightness of the room hit his eyes. Harry stood frozen on the spot, body language showing submissiveness and a hint of hope that was born from his ability to walk in the daylight once again.

A small sob had him jumping slightly back as his eyes quickly scanned the room. He noticed Moody, Snape, Malfoy and McGonagall in the room before a shorter figure dragged him down in an embrace. He tensed and fought the urge to pull away or lash out, repeating to himself that his previous nightmare was not about to reoccur.

"Harry, dear, it's so good to see you looking better," Mrs. Weasley told him, not breaking the hug.

Harry just nodded briefly, awkwardly patting the woman on her back, wary of human contact in the presence of the ex-Auror who'd forbidden him to touch anybody in the house. He sighed relieved when Molly pulled away and no burning hex had been aimed his way, allowing himself to look at everyone in the room.

Draco was sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of tea cupped in his hands, looking slightly paler than usual, but gradually regaining his usual complexion. Grey eyes were studying Harry intensely, assessing the vampire's situation before bowing his head courtly in greeting.

Caught off guard by the gesture and not really knowing how to react, Harry nodded back, casting a wary glance towards the Potions Master. Surely the man would lay into him for attacking him… and for biting Draco… and for being Harry Potter. Period. Snape was watching him with his usual scowl set firmly in place, though it seemed to be provoked by thoughtfulness rather than by annoyance.

"Mr. Potter," the man greeted silkily and Harry's heart seemed to have logged in his throat. What else could be as large as the damned lump that suddenly developed in voice box?

"Sir?" the Gryffindor managed after a slightly convulsive gulp.

"Sit," the man instructed curtly, pointing a pale finger towards the chair opposite Malfoy.

Harry reluctantly approached the table and cautiously sat down, all the while glancing at Moody, knowing he'd broken instated rules twice that day and many times the night before. But Mad-Eye looked at him without saying a word and without any sign of a warning in his eyes, magical or otherwise.

'_That's odd,_' Harry thought. '_Usually he'd already be casting curses my way…'_

Potter was startled out of his thoughts by a voice: "How are you holding up, Harry?"

The young boy looked around and found McGonagall had addressed him. Harry was… surprised. More so seeing as his Head of the House addressed him by his given name, a fret which only happened once before, and only after another argument with Umbridge.

He paused to assess his situation. He was thirsty and his fangs ached for lack of sustenance, but he'd grown so accustomed to this that he could forcefully shove the feeling aside. He was wary of where he stood… Confused by the turn of events. He was badly shaken by the memories haunting him. Yet at the same time he felt a little hopeful that his vampirism could become less of an impediment now that he could walk under the sun again. But he felt weak… emotionally exhausted to the very limit of his endurance after being forced to adapt to an unlikely and unwanted situation for two weeks. He was weak from starvation. Pig's blood worked when things got too low and even Draco's blood couldn't get much of a rise in his drained body.

But overall… He felt marginally better than the day before and decided to voice this opinion.

"What about your thirst?" Remus gently inquired, taking a seat at the table beside Malfoy.

At this Harry bit his lower lip, avoiding everybody's eyes by staring intently at the lines in the table wood. "Better, I guess…"

"Bollocks!" Draco snapped.

"Language, Mr. Malfoy," the adults reprimanded while Harry didn't dare look up. The Slytherin ignored the Order members and continued as though he wasn't interrupted: "It's burning you on the inside as we speak. You may have grown accustomed to the sensation, but that ache in your teeth… that won't go away and while it's an improvement that you actually _acknowledge_ them, you're by no means better. You might deny it… Hell, you might even _believe_ it, but fact its, if anything, you're worse. You've had a taste of human blood and you crave it again. You never felt like this after drinking _pig_'s blood, have you?" he spoke, saying the word 'pig' as if it were the foulest thing imaginable.

Potter's cheeks colored slightly and he shook his head, unwilling to look up and face anyone.

There was a slight pause before Moody decided to step up and take the word, causing Harry to tense and edge away almost unnoticeably. "We've debated your situation, Potter," he said and the boy prepared himself for a blow, whole body ready to react if need be. "Two people have agreed to be your donors for a-"

"What?" Harry asked sharply, head snapping up to look Moody in the eye, his own orbs briefly flashing gold.

"Calm down and listen to the man, Harry," Lupin gently urged him.

"As I was saying, two donors have agreed to give you their blood for a week. One in the morning and one in the evening so that you may regain your strength. After a week, only one of them will remain and we'll gradually teach you to adjust to longer periods without drinking," the ex-Auror said gruffly, as if he didn't agree at all to the idea – which he probably didn't, Harry realized and surprised himself by agreeing.

"No," the vampire flat-out refused, his voice stern and slightly menacing.

Moody looked taken aback for a brief moment, but everyone else in the room seemed to have expected this reaction.

"Harry, you must. It's for your own goo-"

"Forget it, Moony," Potter snapped. "I point-blank refuse to take someone's blood, willing or unwilling. I'm not about to become what you all fear and that's final. I can survive on something else… Maybe we could change the pig's blood to something different that might appeal more to my body?"

At this Snape finally joined the conversation: "Your body, maybe, but what of your comfort, Mr. Potter? Surely you can't expect to survive on animal blood for the rest of eternity. It's unnatural. It's a certain way to get yourself killed. You're halfway hovering on Death's door as it is," he sneered.

The Boy-Who-Lived looked down again, wariness washing over him once more. He really didn't have the energy to deal with this and besides… he needed to get out of there soon. The chorus of beating hearts became louder to his still over-charged senses and if he wasn't careful he would surely lose what fragile control he had gained over his nature. His fangs gave a sharp sting to his gums, making the teenager wince… That was what he hated most about the Thirst. It was a complete nag.

"Harry…" Lupin inquired, placing a warm hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Don't touch me, Remus," the teen all but growled, mentally shoving his senses and his thirst somewhere in the back of his mind where it couldn't cause him to slip and hurt someone.

The atmosphere in the room tensed and Snape strolled towards him and cuffed him upside the head, causing the vampire to lose his reign over his mental occupation.

"Do not add to your list of problems by burying your instincts, Potter!" the man spoke.

Suddenly angry, Harry stood up swiftly, kicking his chair to the ground, golden eyes blazing as he grabbed Snape by the collar, noticing for the first time that his professor was without his usual attire, thus having his neck bared quite conveniently. Severus' hair was tied back and Harry could clearly see the jugular pulsing under the skin through a blue vessel. Harry's mouth practically watered and he suddenly found himself very willing to sink his teeth in that pale flesh.

Horrified by the turn of his thoughts, Potter tried to pull back, only to have his arm firmly and painfully grasped by the Death Eater who yanked the teenager towards him, burying a hand in disheveled dark locks and pressing the boy's face to his neck.

Harry struggled weakly, the man's blood calling to him. "N-no," he brokenly whimpered.

Surprisingly, nobody in the room reacted, as Snape growled and pressed Harry closer to himself and his bared neck - though Moody did flex his fingers, ready to grab his wand if need be. "Drink, Potter," he sneered and Harry lost the battle with himself.

Fingers that had attempted to push Snape away curled around soft dark material and pulled the other body closer to his, as he bared his fangs and sank them in his professor's neck, coppery liquid filling his mouth and causing him to release a small moan of pleasure. It wasn't the same haze-inducing pleasure he'd felt when drinking from Malfoy the other night, but it definitely stimulated his senses and gradually quenched his burning thirst. Like with Draco, Harry could feel Snape's heartbeat as his own, pulsing through his own body as it did through his owner's… And like what happened to Draco, Snape's heart started beating slower and Harry tried hard not to panic because he didn't want to stop drinking… He didn't want the feeling to end… Only… Vampire or not, he was still Harry Potter, and Harry Potter did not want to become a murderer so he gently retracted his fangs and licked the wounds, closing them up before pulling away.

Snape slumped in a chair, hand to his neck, feeling the tender flesh there, onyx eyes locked on Harry's golden ones. And it was at that point that reality sunk in for Potter.

Oh, _gods_, he'd bitten another human! He'd bitten Snape… he'd taken Snape's _blood_.

He suddenly felt sick and he edged away nervously, muttering apologies all the while, tears forming in eyes that turned green with fear. "I'm sorry… I'm _so_ sorry," he repeated like a mantra, running a hand through his messy locks before finally bolting out of the room when Molly tried to touch him.

The door slammed shut, leaving everyone in heavy silence. It was only half a minute later that someone dared move and make a sound: Draco groaned loudly and dropped his head in his hands, shaking it dejectedly. Potter was further gone in his self-hate and self-incrimination than he'd originally thought…

'_No matter,_' he said to himself. _'We'll just have to work through that as well'_

* * *

**T.B.C.**

Just as last time: I want to know if I should continue writing this. Depending on the response, I'll keep the fic going. If not… Well, it'll most probably be taken down.

Posted: _March 23, 2008_


	3. Chapter 3

Bloodlust

**General w****arnings: **

1) This fic deals with **not-so-friendly language**, **blood** and **SLASH**. Slash as in boy/boy relationships, comprendre? Not your cup of tea, then go get coffee. _No_ flames accepted. **You have been warned.**

2) English is _not_ my mother tongue so please excuse possible mistakes and kindly point them out so that I may actually learn from them. But, that may not be a problem thanks to my beta: Kimberly at LJ

**Notes: **

1) Since I haven't read the HP books in English, I might have some of the spells and characters spelled wrong, as well as some of the magical creatures.

2) The characters will be slightly OOC, but you'll see how that comes to be in future chapters.

3) Deathly Hollows non-compliant.

**Disclaimer: **I own diddly squat.

**Summary**It had been two weeks since they'd lost their most prized weapon… the prophesized child that should rid the world of its greatest threat, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived… Two weeks since the Order lost Harry Potter to darkness. HPDM slash. Vamp!fic

**A/N: **I'd just like to say that I **never** intended to imply any Snarry in this fic. I might try a separate fic based on that in the future, but this one is strictly Harry/Draco.

* * *

**Bloo****d-Bound **

**Chapter 3**

Draco was annoyed. He was really, really, _really_ annoyed. Why? Because he'd gone looking for Potter and the bloody wand pointed that Harry was in his room, but the room looked deserted. That could only mean three things:

1) Draco was really a squib and the wand was just a trick one from the Weasleys… Highly unlikely.

2) Draco was too tired to function properly, hence the wayward magic. Possible, but not quite probable. If there was one thing Snape could brew, it was a Blood Replenishing potion and a good Strengthening one.

3) Potter was under his invisibility cloak, making Draco wonder why, in Merlin's, name he was in Gryffindor… Yes, definitely jackpot.

"You have exactly ten seconds to get out from under that thing before I lose my patience and hex you six ways from Sunday," the Slytherin threatened through gritted teeth.

"Go away, Malfoy," Harry's voice said from somewhere near the window which, Draco noted, had the curtains still drawn.

Draco pretended to think about it. "No, I don't think I will," he drawled before flicking his wand and commanding: "_Accio Invisibility Cloak_."

Liquid silver seemed to fly towards him and Draco caught the material with disinterest, grey eyes fixing on the huddled form of one Harry James Potter whose head snapped up to glare at the Malfoy heir. Eyes locked and a battle of wills seemed to take place for a moment until the Gryffindor looked away, fixing his red-rimed eyes on the carpet.

Draco sighed and draped the cloak over a nearby chair after which he promptly dropped on Harry's bed, flipping his legs over the covers, crossing them at the ankles. He linked his long, pale fingers together over his chest and shifted a little until he deemed himself comfortable enough.

"Wh-what are you doing? I told you to go away," Potter stammered slightly, clearly confused by the Slytherin's actions.

"Sitting on your bed," Draco stated the obvious and then added: "I must say, Potter, the floor is not nearly as comfortable."

Harry growled low in his throat. "What the bloody hell do you want, Malfoy?" he snapped, spitting the blonde's name like it was poison.

Draco smirked, feeling satisfied with the response he was getting. "When did I want anything that didn't involve dragging you through a little mud?" he inquired. Harry hissed and Draco ignored him in favor of continuing: "Of course, you'd know all about mud, wouldn't you, Potter, with your mother having filth running through her veins-"

"Shut up!" Harry barked, rising to his feet so fast that the naked eye couldn't follow his movements.

His eyes flashed golden as they locked on the seemingly relaxed figure on the bed. He could feel his control slipping and his anger taking over as it often did when his parents were insulted. Why couldn't people get it? They were dead. _Dead_. D-E-A-D. As in not breathing, not moving, not talking, not being able to _defend themselves_. Harry was sick of people trying to taint their names based on prejudices. It was something that deeply disgusted him.

"Or what, Potter?" Draco challenged, hoisting himself upwards on his elbows and fixing the Gryffindor with his stare.

Harry's eyes shifted colors, fixing on gold as his fangs grew, the Gryffindor baring them menacingly. Malfoy, for his part, was unimpressed.

"That's all fine and well, Potter, but you and I both know you're much too… Gryffindor to bite me," Draco taunted, a smirk quirking his lips, causing Harry to hiss at him, fact which amused the Slytherin to no end. "Oh, bravo, Potter," he mock cheered.

Harry's already thinning patience snapped abruptly and he lunged at the blond, completely forgetting about his newly-acquired strength, thus giving his opponent the desired result: that of catching the vampire off-guard and swiftly pinning him to the floor with a sudden move of his own, though his plan did have a little catch that couldn't be avoided… His knee would be sore for _days_ after slamming it into the floor when he stranded Harry's body with his own.

Draco caught the creature's arm and twisted it brutally at the boy's back, his lower body pinning Harry's hips, restricting his ability to move too much without endangering his trapped arm which Draco had firmly pressed on the Gryffindor's lower back while the blonde's left hand roughly tangled in Harry's raven locks, pressing his cheek into the blue carpet.

Harry squirmed, trying to free himself from the death-grip, but each time he made a move, Draco would twist his arm further, making the boy whimper in pain and forget his supernatural strength which was conveniently shoved somewhere in the back of his mind by anger, confusion and pain.

"Knock it off," Draco growled and waited 'til all movement ceased and only panting filled the silence. "Good boy," he snarled. "Now, Potter, you and I are going to have a little chat where I talk and you shut the bloody hell up and listen to what I have to say, got that?"

Harry didn't so much as twitch a muscle to show that he'd heard the Malfoy heir speak. Displeased with the defiant vampire, Malfoy twisted his fingers in the jet-black hair, making Harry wince and nod quickly.

"That's better," Draco mock praised in a cold tone of voice. "Now that I've temporarily got you out of your self-hate and guilt, I want you to listen very carefully to me because I'm only going to explain this once," Draco said. "You're a vampire and that's all fine and dandy and _not_ the end of the goddamned world. You're not the first one to be turned and you'll certainly not be the last. Now, as you may have noticed, people are quite prejudiced when it comes to vampires, but then again, where's the difference there? People have always seen something else in the Chosen One, something that wasn't necessarily there, right? They see the little Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Tragic Hero, the Boy-Who-Somehow-Managed-To-Survive-For-Nearly-Seventeen-Years and they always fail to notice the person behind the fame."

Harry stopped his slight squirming and listened intently, shocked by the way Draco's words hit home completely. Draco noticed the change in his captive's posture and loosened his hold slightly. "You've seen our DADA textbooks, seen the pictures of vampires there. Have you noticed how completely off track they are? Have you noticed the difference between reality and fiction, Potter?" Malfoy paused before continuing scathingly: "Of course you didn't… You're too caught up in your own little self-pity to notice the difference."

"What difference would it make?" Harry asked bitterly. "It won't change what I am: a freak and a monster."

"Ah, see, but that's where you're wrong," the Slytherin contradicted. "It'll change your view on yourself and the outcome of your change. You view yourself as this vicious murderer and so on and so forth, but tell me, how many people have you killed?"

Harry didn't say anything and Draco twisted his hair a little, jerking a response from the Gryffindor: "None!"

"Then why are you a murderer? Because of what Moody _thinks_ you might become if you take a little blood once in a while? Because of the thirst that dries you up inside, burns your organs and pulls at your throat? Because of the way you look at someone's neck and feel the need to sink your teeth there, yet refrain yourself from doing so?"

Harry let out a choked sob and Malfoy knew he'd hit the nail on the head. "All that doesn't make you a murderer, Potter. You've tasted human blood twice, and both times you stopped drinking before you could cause any lasting damage. How does that make you any less than the Hero everyone sees in you?" Draco asked, his tone going softer.

"But I came so close to losing control this morning. I didn't – I didn't want to stop, I wanted to drain him-"

"-But you didn't," Draco cut in sharply.

Potter sobbed brokenly, no longer caring that he was breaking down in front of his six year long nemesis. His entire body shook under Draco's, who moved his left hand towards Harry's neck, resting his palm there, fingers still slightly tangled in black locks.

"But I can lose control at any moment… I could damage somebody beyond all comprehension. What if that happens? What if-"

"'_What ifs'_ shouldn't rule your life, Potter. '_What ifs'_ and '_if onlys'_ only serve to drag you deeper in a pit of despair. You can't live your life in fear of something that may or may not be out of your control. You're still the Chosen One with or without those new vampire genes. You're still an annoying prat and you're still Weasel's and Granger's friend, despite your change in metabolism and cardiac function. There's nearly nothing different about _who_ you are. You just need to remember that you control the demon inside. It doesn't control you, Potter. You need to learn to accept that and learn to live with it."

"How can I?" Harry asked so softly that Draco had to strain his ears in order to hear him.

"Simple," he replied calmly, almost soothingly. "Let go of your anger. Let go of your self-hate and remember who were… who you still _are_."

Potter shook as a sob was wrenched past his pale lips, but he didn't allow himself to cry openly. "Let it all go, Potter," Draco urged him calmly. "You're not to blame for all this, let it go… You're not a murderer and you're not a freak of nature. There's nothing to hate about yourself."

And those words triggered the damn and all of Harry's tender reign over his grief set itself loose, bitter tears flowing freely, wetting the carpet and heart-wrenching sobs wracking his body almost violently. Draco stared at him impassively, panicking slightly on the inside. This was the desired outcome of backing Potter into a corner with the proverbial red-hot poker. Problem was that this was as far as Draco'd planned the whole situation. This was as far as he'd promised himself to go, but looking down at the broken shape of his school rival, Draco realized that he wished there'd be more he could do because Harry reminded him of a scared teenager that didn't know what to do with himself should he fail the Dark Lord's mission.

Draco was all too familiar with how the Chosen One felt… So vulnerable like that and so alone, with nobody to turn to, wishing there would be some spells that would cause the ground to open up and swallow him whole… Wishing for someone to be there and comfort him… Hold him and whisper promises of a better future. Yes, Draco was intimately familiar with the whole situation.

Unsure of what to do, but compelled to do it, Malfoy ran his hand up and down Harry's spine in an awkward gesture of comfort, speaking meaningless words that his mind wouldn't register.

They stayed like that for a while, Harry crying and Draco running his pale hand over Potter's spine while waiting patiently for the vampire to calm himself.

"Better?" the Slytherin asked after the shaking and sobbing subsided, leaving Harry panting slightly on the floor.

The Gryffindor nodded and took a shuddering breath. "Good," said Malfoy. "I'm going to let you go now and I don't want you to lash out, okay?"

Harry nodded and Draco took a moment longer before relinquishing his hold on the vampire and getting up, allowing the raven-haired boy to roll over and sit up, drawing his knees to his chest and hugging his legs in a childish defensive posture. Draco sat on the bed, wincing slightly at the pain in his knees.

They sat like that in a somewhat tense silence, neither knowing what to really say after Potter's pathetic display. Ever the Gryffindor, though, Harry broke the silence: "What's going to happen now?"

Draco pondered the question for a few seconds, thinking about how to phrase his reply before actually gracing his companion with an answer: "We work on getting you stronger again. Your entire system is damaged from lack of proper sustenance, hence why you must drink each morning and each evening… Depending on how you evolve, we'll set your meals," Draco explained and waited a moment for any forthcoming questions. He wasn't disappointed.

"Mad-Eye mentioned something about two donors… Who…?"

Draco smirked. "You mean you haven't figured it out yet, Potter? I must say, I'm surprised. I'd have expected the great Chosen One to get it by now," he taunted.

Harry glared at him with emerald eyes.

"I'm one of them. I offered my blood last night willingly and I'll keep doing it. The other one is Snape. He'll be the one to give his blood in the mornings," explained with a hint of amusement.

Harry turned an unattractive shade of green. Drear sweet Merlin, Snape would never allow him to live this down.

Malfoy noticed the change and all mirth was gone from his face in a flash. "The werewolf spoke to him about gloating. Snape won't hold you to it as long as you make quick progress," he said, correctly guessing why the change in demeanor occurred.

Harry snorted bitterly and shook his head. Malfoy ignored the reaction in favor of continuing his outline of what the Order had in mind for its Savior: "You'll need to feed from the two of us for about a week. After that, you'll have to choose one from which to draw blood until we can settle you on something else. We'll make the changes gradually so that you have time to adjust. As we get you settled on your meals, we'll have to teach you how to control your hyperactive senses, 'less you want to lose your mind because of the overwhelming sensations. That's where Lupin and myself will help… Hopefully you'll get a grasp of everything in less than a month. Then we need to get you comfortable with human touch again. Your vampire side needs it, but I saw your reaction to Mother Weasel touching you."

Harry was silent for a few moments, taking it all in and analyzing the situation, not bothering to comment on Draco's choice of insults brought to Mrs. Weasley.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked softly turning to look at the blond who calmly waited him to continue: "Why are you helping me all of a sudden? This… It's isn't like you, Malfoy."

"I told you, Potter… I had an aunt," Draco drawled, speaking very much in a tone that suggested he was addressing a mentally incapacitated two year old.

"So you did… But I somehow fail to see how I fit into the picture," Harry retailed and Draco sneered at him.

Harry, though, was unimpressed and he waited silently for a reply. "Please… I just want to know why…" he pleaded gently, his expression earnest and pathetic at the same time.

Draco sighed and gave in, though he really, really didn't want to. Problem was that if he didn't, Potter wouldn't at least make an effort to trust him, and trust was the base of helping him out.

"My father had a sister," he slowly began, rolling the words on his tongue deliberately so that it would take longer for him to compose a suitable answer. "Her name was Lacrima and she was beautiful, unlike any other woman you'd ever set eyes on. She was twelve years younger than my father and very naïve when it came to people. She believed that ever human had a little kindness inside." Draco chuckled sadly at this. "Everybody wondered if she really was a Malfoy, but her appearance proved them that she was. She had platinum hair with streaks of gold and she was pale and fragile like any other Malfoy female across the generations. And she was proud… Needless to say, her… Innocent nature and beauty caught the eyes of many men who wanted a share of the family fortune. Unfortunately it caught the eye of a vampire as well…"

Harry gulped, already anticipating where the story was going. "He turned her," he said. It wasn't a question.

Malfoy nodded. "He was drawn in by her social status and her beauty but most of all… he was attracted by her magical power. He courted her, but she could see into his soul. He was evil… Much like the Dark Lord himself. Normally that wouldn't have bothered her, our family having its own fair fascination with the Dark Arts, but he was different. Enraged by her constant refusal, he decided to ruin her by throwing her in the dark and shattering her mental barriers. I was there when they found her and brought her to the Manor. She was scared and weakened and she refused to talk or be touched by anybody. My parents were devastated and both Mother and Father offered to be her donors along with… someone else. I watched how they helped her to gradually regain herself… But it was a slow, consuming process and I saw how vampirism can affect someone… how it can break a person. I swore to myself that I'd help anyone in that situation, regardless of who that person may be. That includes you as well," Malfoy stated calmly.

Harry nodded, understanding where Malfoy stood. He saw the blond in a new light for the first time in years and realized that the blond had been traumatized by what had happened to his aunt, realized that he hid himself under a cold mask in order to prevent any occurrences to himself that might relate to his family's recent history. It was a good defense mechanism that sadly had one flaw: it made everybody see only the darker parts of the blond and never the positive ones. Because, honestly, nobody evil would be willing to help an emotionally unstable vampire.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked slowly, wondering all the while if he should approach the subject.

"You can… But I can't guarantee to answer," Malfoy accepted coolly.

"How was she turned?"

Draco looked at the Golden Boy strangely as though the Gryffindor had suddenly grown an extra head. "Much like yourself, I should imagine," he said, his tone biting.

Harry looked away as he answered in a shaky: "The circumstances of my turning were… unusual."

Draco didn't say anything for a long moment, but his tone was bitter and hard when he finally spoke again. "Her crossing was done unwillingly. She never consented to it and I later found out that she'd been taken forcefully before being turned."

"Taken?" Harry inquired in a small voice, almost afraid of the answer.

"Sexually," Draco nodded and Harry felt his face draining further. "I read it in her diary… He kidnapped her and took her somewhere. Her account said that she was cold due to blood loss but there wasn't a very good description further… He blindfolded her and… Potter?"

Harry felt his head swirling with the implications. He felt like he couldn't breathe and that the whole world was crumbling around him, a black abyss opening up and swallowing him whole. Dear gods, someone else had gone through what he had… He felt sick to the stomach just by thinking about it.

Suddenly two hands gripped his arms, pulling him forcefully back to reality and grounding him. He looked up to see narrowed gray eyes boring into his.

"Potter?" Draco repeated, a hint of concern in his voice mingling with annoyance and anger.

"Let me guess," Harry laughed humorlessly, a tear falling down his cheek as he diverted his gaze, unable to look at his rival. "She was naked, wrapped in dark red sheets and a fire was burning in the fireplace, but she couldn't get warm… not until he poured a potion down her throat an-" he broke off with a sob.

Malfoy's hand sharply grabbed his chin and forced Harry to look at him, silver eyes searching his, fear written all over the usually cool features. "How did you know that, Potter?" he demanded roughly.

Harry's fingers curled around Malfoy's right wrist, the one that held him by the chin and he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, unable to form any sounds. Another tear fell from his eyes as he closed them tightly. There was a brief moment of silence before Malfoy's grip loosened.

"That's what happened to you too, isn't it?" Draco asked, his voice oddly strangled and breathless.

Harry took a shuddering breath and his fingers tightened around Draco's wrist but he did not reply. He didn't need to. His body language told the Slytherin all there was to know. Kneeling before the Gryffindor, Draco placed his head on Harry's drawn up knees and trembled slightly. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly.

Harry laughed humorously again and placed his hand over his mouth in order to stop the following sobs. Draco looked up and sent all his walls to hell because this situation was something he never wished for anybody to go through. He'd seen the effects of such a brutal turning and fuck! he wasn't so sadistic as to take pleasure in it. Hence why he trampled all over his reason and his dislike and wrapped his arms around the Boy-Who-Merlin-Knew-How-He-Managed-To-Survive-Each-Day.

He didn't say anything, because there were no words to say. There were no words of comfort that could take the pain away and no words that could heal wounds that ran too deep for even time to heal without help from others. So they sat there quietly, Harry's sobs breaking the silence once in a while, making Draco tighten his arms around him every time.

Later they'd both probably deny their actions, the Slytherin Ice Prince blaming it all on his aunt's traumatic past while the Gryffindor would blame it all on weakness, neither willing to acknowledge the quickly shifting nature of their relationship. But now… Now they were both willing to forgo their past for a little while longer.

**T.B.C.**

* * *

Just as last time: I want to know if I should continue writing this. Depending on the response, I'll keep the fic going. If not… Well, it'll most probably be taken down.

The fourth chapter's already half-way done so it'll be out next Sunday if nothing gets in the way.

Posted: _March 30, 2008_


	4. Chapter 4

Bloodlust

**General w****arnings: **

1) This fic deals with **not-so-friendly language**, **blood** and **SLASH**. Slash as in boy/boy relationships, comprendre? Not your cup of tea, then go get coffee. _No_ flames accepted. **You have been warned.**

2) English is _not_ my mother tongue so please excuse possible mistakes and kindly point them out so that I may actually learn from them. But, that may not be a problem thanks to my beta: Kimberly at LJ

**Notes: **

1) Since I haven't read the HP books in English, I might have some of the spells and characters spelled wrong, as well as some of the magical creatures.

2) The characters will be slightly OOC, but you'll see how that comes to be in future chapters.

3) Deathly Hollows non-compliant.

**Disclaimer: **I own diddly squat.

**Summary****: **It had been two weeks since they'd lost their most prized weapon… the prophesized child that should rid the world of its greatest threat, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived… Two weeks since the Order lost Harry Potter to darkness. HPDM slash. Vamp!fic

**A/N: **Okay, this chapter was not beta'd. Sadly, Kimberly had a bit of an accident and wasn't able to check this one, so any mistakes or difficulties with phrases are my own. Feel free to point them out. Also... Up to this point I thought this chapter was one of the best I've written. Now that it's been posted though, I'm not that sure... Therefore, feedback on it is most welcome.

Blood-Bound also comes with a banner as of now. You can find it here: http : / / i72 (dot) photobucket (com) com / albums / i193/ aleeramcguire / BloodBoundban (dot) jpg (just erase the spaces and add the dots where required)

* * *

**Bloo****d-Bound **

**Chapter 4**

_Harry's body burned with shame at being taken so forcefully by another. It was something he'd never thought about and never believed would happen to him. Yet here he was, his body sprawled on a bed, a complete stranger taking advantage of his vulnerability. _

_He'd stopped screaming a while ago, bitterly aware of the fact that nobody would hear him._

_He'd stopped struggling as well, his body almost limp and nearly numb aside from the burning. The burning - that was something he couldn't block out._

_He couldn't block out the satisfied sounds of his assaulter either, just as he couldn't control the embarrassing sounds that left his lips each time his prostate was brushed._

_Harry was pretty sure he'd never felt like welcoming Death like this before. He wanted it, _craved_ for it… Anything to stop what was happening to him…_

_But it seemed that fate had a twisted sense of humor and even that was taken away from him as he felt a pair of sharp fangs tearing through his skin and latching on his carotid, drawing blood in the same rhythmic pace as the stranger's thrusts, sending waves of both pleasure and pain throughout his body, though of the two, pain was the dominant factor. _

'Please, no,_**'**__ Harry inwardly begged whichever deity might be listening to him._

_But his release was definitely not what he was aiming for… With a vicious thrust and a long suck, the stranger pushed the Gryffindor over the edge, the boy spilling his seed between their bodies, his mind swimming with the aftereffects of his orgasm and blood loss. _

_He moaned as the stranger kept sucking at his neck, drawing more blood with each swallow, slowing Harry's heart and breathing down to the point the boy lost consciousness._

* * *

_He opened his eyes abruptly and promptly shut them right back, annoyed by the sudden light that assaulted his vision. _

"_Harry," a warm, female voice called him and the Chosen One looked up, ignoring the brightness. _

_His emerald eyes locked on orbs the same color as his own. A woman was kneeling beside him, dark red hair flowing freely down her shoulders, the same as tears did down her cheeks. _

"_Mom?" Harry asked dumbly, trying to understand what was happening to him. _

"_I'm so sorry, honey," she said brokenly as she leaned in to kiss his forehead. "I'm so sorry," she cried._

_A larger hand clasped on his shoulder and Harry turned to see an almost exact replica of himself, only older and with brown eyes: his father, behind whom stood Sirius. Harry noted that they were both crying._

"_Am I dead?" he inquired curiously, feeling oddly detached. _

"_In a way, son," said James, his voice cracking slightly._

_A sudden pain ripped through his body, causing Harry to cry out and his family to gather closer around him, each offering their support._

"_You didn't kill me, Harry," Sirius spoke urgently, willing his godson to listen to him._

"_But-"_

"_You _didn't_," Sirius insisted as another sharp pain careered though Harry's entire bloodstream. _

"_What's happening?" the boy asked, fear starting to cloud his judgment. _

"_You're being called back," Lilly cried, hugging her son close. "Take care, sweetie," she whispered after another tug at Harry's entire body was made._

_And all he knew then was darkness and warm liquid being poured down his throat from the warm flesh of a slender wrist. And Harry and drank because it was all he was capable of as his entire body burned much differently from earlier. It was though he hadn't had a drink in months and he was suddenly offered a glass of water. It was heaven as the warm liquid purged away the thirst, quenching it until there was nothing left of it. It coursed through his body like wildfire, igniting tingles in every nerve ending he had, ordering his body to come alive in a way he never thought possible. It was like being reborn, everything feeling wonderful, new and _intense_._

_Then fangs pressed into his neck again and he moaned deeply, overwhelmed by the sensation it gave him. It was pain and pleasure at the same time, each feeling trying to override the other until bliss took the reigns. Harry moaned again and threw his head back, hands coming up and gripping the body looming above him. He could feel power running freely through his veins and instate itself in his body, shifting and molding to his own needs and shapes. He could feel himself growing hard from the overwhelming experience and the other person moved, making Harry aware that he was bottoming for that someone, though his memory seemed to have misplaced the way that occurred. _

_Then the unknown person shifted his angle a bit and brushed across a little bundle of oversensitive nerves that lay in Harry's body and the boy gasped in pleasure and arched up before wrapping his legs around the person above him, pulling the body closer and deeper into him. Harry was lost in a world of internal pleasure, overly acute senses doing wonders to his body. It all seemed to have been reduced to the thrust-gasp-moan-repeat motions of their coupling, the sensations driving all rational thought out of Harry's mind. He was absolutely mentally impaired by the combination of sex and coppery liquid that filled him slowly through that blessed wrist. He moaned each time that sweet fluid entered his system and the stranger's prick brushed against his spot. Harry lasted only for a few more thrusts before he came hard and his bedmate pulled out of him, retracting his fangs and his wrist, depriving the Gryffindor of his pleasures._

_Harry laid panting, hands still idly clutching at the other man's arms as the blood haze gradually diminished and dissolved. _

_But along with the blood haze, his memories rose and slammed brutally to the front, causing the boy to scramble backwards in fright, shame and sheer horror, his brain trying to deny what had happened… That he'd _enjoyed_ what had happened. The stranger laughed cruelly before yanking Harry forward by his neck and whispering one word in his ear: "Sleep."_

_And Harry slept, overcome by tiredness and fear and shame._

* * *

"Potter," a somewhat irked voice penetrated the black haze of sleep and Harry struggled back to consciousness. "Potter," the same voice called again, this time a little clearer and a little louder.

Harry opened his eyes. The room was dark and he was laying on someone, both their bodies held upright by some random piece of furniture. He immediately tensed, the memories freshly dug out by sleep causing him to be wary of where he was and who he was with.

"Good you're awake," the voice drawled and Harry recognized Malfoy.

He relaxed slightly, refraining himself from lashing out should his apparent pillow make a sudden movement. His senses were strung taunt and he noticed for the first time that his face was wet with tears. He then noted that Malfoy's blood was calling to him, the _'thump-thump' _of his heart almost hypnotizing.

Draco shifted, and Harry took in their position. They'd somehow ended up tangled together, Harry resting on his side and slightly bent face down on Draco's chest, lying between the V of the blonde's legs. One of his arms was wound around the Slytherin while the other had its fingers curled in the soft, expensive-looking material of Draco's shirt. Draco's leg was tangled with his own and the blonde's arms were around him, one hand jumbled in his messy hair, the other holding his bicep loosely. It was obvious that Malfoy had just woken up; else he'd have moved them both.

Harry moved his head up fearfully to look at the other wizard, but froze as his nose brushed Draco's neck, his entire body going rigid. His fangs ached and the Thirst burned within him. It would be only so simple to lean up and sink his overgrown cuspids in that pale flesh… to taste the coppery blood that made him feel so alive with each gulp…

Before he could realize what he was doing, Harry reached up, opening his mouth over the alabaster skin, his fangs scratching the neck slightly before Harry's mind caught up with his body and the boy stopped for a moment before starting to pull back and fighting the urge to drink.

Malfoy tightened his hold on the Gryffindor's hair and held him in place. "Go on. You need to drink," he said sternly and Harry gulped, wishing he could just get over himself and bite the blonde.

"What if I hurt you?" he asked instead.

Draco paused. "You won't," he said with conviction in his voice, pulling Harry closer.

Potter lost the battle with himself and the hand that was previously clutching Draco's shirt moved up to the Slytherin nape of the neck, using it as leverage to pull himself further up. His senses escaped their chains and Harry reveled in the way the blond felt under him and around him. He enjoyed the rapidly beating heart until he sensed that the other wizard was tense. Potter remembered what it was like to be bitten when tense. It hurt so much that there was nearly no pleasure in the bite and he didn't want to hurt Draco, much as their dislike usually escalated.

Suddenly feeling more nervous, Harry shakily placed an open-mouth kiss on Malfoy's neck, pausing for a moment to see how the blond took the gesture. He got no reaction and he repeated the procedure, this time using his tongue to lick at the pulse point, making Draco take a ragged breath.

"Po-Potter? W-what are you doing?" Malfoy inquired shakily and Harry could tell that he was edging towards the desired results.

"I'm trying to make you relax," he said simply, licking at the skin again.

Malfoy gulped, but said nothing more, beginning to loosen up as Harry continued his ministrations by licking and kissing and –oh, Merlin!- _sucking_ lightly at the now flushed skin. Harry could feel Draco responding physically to the sensations and for a moment he was worried that he'd crossed a line, but Malfoy said nothing and he wasn't complaining himself so he continued his actions until the blond relaxed completely. It was only then that he sank his fangs into the jugular.

Malfoy released a combination of sounds as the flesh was torn, a mix between a hiss and a moan, arching a little and pulling Harry closer still. Potter drank slowly, feeling his entire being come alive with Draco's liquid which seemed different from the last time he'd tasted it. It seemed richer somehow, sweeter than anything Harry had ever experienced. It drove his senses wild and Draco's breathy moans and groans sent electric jolts of pleasure throughout his body.

It was around the third mouthful of blood that Harry caught scent of arousal coming from his prey. It was as though somebody else entirely guided his hand from Draco's neck to the bulge in the blonde's jeans where he pressed slightly with the heel of his palm. With a loud moan Draco threw his head back, rubbing his groin across Harry's hand in an attempt to get some much-needed friction. He kept on panting as Potter rubbed through his jeans and sucked in the already set rhythm, his body enjoying the attention like never before.

"Potter… Potter, _please_… I need. Oh, _Merlin_, I need…" Draco gasped and shuddered, unable to complete his sentence, but Harry understood perfectly well what he wanted. Question was: could he do it?

But the begging that continued and the blood's flavor gave him confidence he normally wouldn't have and he made quick work of Draco's fly. Draco shook slightly with anticipation while he slipped a warm hand in the Slytherin's undergarments and wrapped his fingers around the other wizard's hard cock.

Draco gave a strangled moanand thrust in the tunnel created by the vampire's fingers, making Harry pick up a pace and maintain it for a few moments before letting go. Malfoy gave a little cry of protest and instinct overrode all of Harry's inhibitions. His fingers slid over Draco's swollen head before smearing precome all over the blonde's taunt shaft. After that he promptly enclosed his fingers around the Slytherin's throbbing member, applying just the right amount of pressure as his hand glided up and down in a steadily increasing rhythm. Draco's hands tightened their grip around the vampire and the blonde's hips bucked upwards, moaning loud, obviously feeling the need to be a bit vocal about his pleasure.

The blood pouring in Harry's mouth was pure ambrosia. It was sweet and filling and it was absorbed in his bloodstream with such rapidity that he briefly wondered if he and Draco were naturally compatible. And - _good grief!_ – Malfoy was releasing sounds that were turning Harry on quickly and efficiently, giving him an almost painful hard-on in the space of just a few moments. He reveled in the way the Slytherin breathlessly asked for _more_ and _harder_ and _faster_ and how he almost mindlessly thrust into his hand. Harry inhaled sharply through his nose as Draco's blood changed flavors again, turning –if possible- even sweeter and Harry knew he was close. The Gryffindor then squeezed a little more and rubbed his thumb across Malfoy's slit, earning himself a cry of pleasure from the blond.

If his mouth wasn't occupied, Harry would have smirked, but the blood haze seeped into his system and it was almost too much and too little all at once. He made a sudden twist with his hand and Draco moaned so loudly that Harry was briefly afraid it would awake the portraits downstairs. But the portraits didn't start screaming and Malfoy started trembling while Harry could do nothing more but repeat the twisting motion with his hand each time he reached Draco's head. It was over after just a few thrusts from the Slytherin, Draco coming with a cry of '_God-bloody-hell-_yes_!_', his blood taking the Gryffindor over his own edge before the boy retracted his fangs and licked the skin, closing his victim's wounds.

He then rested his head on Draco's shoulder, pulling his hand out of the blonde's pants and resting it against the ruined shirt, trying to calm down his shallow breathing, idly listening to Malfoy's heartbeat and feeling his slight shudders. Draco's fingers were massaging Potter's scalp absently, soothing away the pain caused by pulling at the raven locks earlier. They sat together for a few blissful moments, little aftershocks of their orgasms coursing through their bodies. Harry swallowed, tasting the remnants of the blonde's blood on his tongue. It wasn't until Draco's breathing returned to normal and he released a sigh that the realization of what he'd done sunk in.

Harry jumped up and on his knees, leaning away from the Slytherin, instantly berating himself for his boldness. Good Lord, he'd practically _forced_ himself upon another! "I'm sorry," he choked and then struggled with his words: "I didn't mean to… I mean… I didn't want to-"

"-But you did," Draco interrupted him and Harry winced, lowering his head and expecting a blow.

Malfoy sighed exasperatedly and pulled out his wand, causing Harry to tense. The Slytherin, however, merely cast a cleaning charm on himself and then on Potter, as an afterthought. Harry glanced up uncertainly, grateful that his eyes could see Draco's but that the gesture couldn't be returned due to the darkness.

"It's your nature to try and get close like that to the one who gives you blood. You crave human touch, Potter. Reassurance and acceptance, even more so seeing your age… and the way the Order of the Bloody Pigeon handled this whole situation," Draco went on to explain.

"But I for-"

"I could have stopped you at any given point, Potter," Malfoy said sharply. "You didn't force me to do anything. I enjoyed as much as you did.'

There was an awkward silence that followed, Harry's mind turning and analyzing what Malfoy had just told him.

"How do you know all this?" he finally asked, his voice oddly hoarse and choked, his entire posture so vulnerable that Malfoy felt compassion stirring inside him.

"It may seem like I wasn't too involved with what happened to my aunt, but I was there everyday while she suffered and while everyone tried to get her to accept herself for what she was. Contrary to popular belief, us Malfoys stick closely together and guard our own, Potter. My aunt was unique because no matter what, she was always kind to me and I respected the way she tried her best to protect me from the whole deal. I respected and studied her ever since I knew her. I also read a lot."

Harry swallowed and nodded in acceptance of the blonde's explanation, yet still unsure of what to do with himself. He heard Malfoy sigh and knew that the Slytherin wasn't pleased. Harry tuned out what the blond muttered, but looked up as a faint light spread through the room. A swirl that resembled a galaxy swirled above them, spreading moonlight-like color around them, making Draco's skin and hair glow faintly, but also emphasizing the dark circles under his eyes.

"Stand up," he said in a tone that left no room for questioning or arguments.

Harry hurried to do so, not wanting to upset the very legal wizard that could do really nasty things with a Burning Hex and a wand. He could feel Draco's mercury eyes trained on him disapprovingly as he scrambled to his feet and stood uncomfortably on the spot after doing so.

"Now help me up," Malfoy said, holding a hand up for the Gryffindor to take.

Harry obliged and helped the weak blond up, Draco swaying a little because of a wave of vertigo. Blood loss, he'd decided, was detrimental to his balance.

"You okay?" Harry asked meekly, almost afraid of hearing the answer.

Draco nodded: "Nothing a Blood Replenishing potion and some sleep can't fix."

Then he did something that nearly shocked Harry out of his skin: he hugged him, arms encircling the vampire and holding him tightly in place. Harry was uncertain of how to react, but he did rest his hands on Draco's waist, not leaning into the touch or encouraging it, but not rejecting it either.

"You didn't damage me, Potter," Draco whispered reassuringly before breaking away and sitting on the bed, waving his wand absently.

A piece of parchment and a quill appeared in front of him and the blond grabbed them from the air and quickly jotted down some words. He then folded the paper and held it out to Harry with a brief explanation: "Give this to Severus. He'll be waiting for you in the kitchen right now."

Harry gulped. Bloody hell, he did not feel up to facing the greasy git.

"He'll help you understand more of what you're capable of," Draco went on, oblivious to Harry's sudden mellowing demeanor.

"Capable of?" Harry echoed weakly, earning a tired smirk from the Slytherin.

"Some of that lore on vampires is true, Potter. Severus will show you just how much," he explained.

Harry gulped, but nodded and turned towards the door, stopping and spinning around to face Draco who was sitting in the same position on the bed, silver eyes trained on the Gryffindor. Potter fidgeted a little, shifting from what foot to the other and biting his lip thoughtfully.

"Thank you… for everything," he said before leaving the room in a hurry.

**T.B.C.**

* * *

Y'all know the drill by now: I want to know if I should continue writing this. Depending on the response, I'll keep the fic going.

Posted: _April 5, 2008_


	5. Chapter 5

Bloodlust

**General warnings: **

1) This fic deals with **not-so-friendly language**, **blood** and **SLASH**. Slash as in boy/boy relationships, comprendre? Not your cup of tea, then go get coffee. _No_ flames accepted. **You have been warned.**

2) English is _not_ my mother tongue so please excuse possible mistakes and kindly point them out so that I may actually learn from them.

**Notes: **

1) Since I haven't read the HP books in English, I might have some of the spells and characters spelled wrong, as well as some of the magical creatures.

2) The characters will be slightly OOC, but you'll see how that comes to be in future chapters.

3) Deathly Hollows non-compliant.

**Disclaimer: **I own diddly squat.

**Summary: **It had been two weeks since they'd lost their most prized weapon… the prophesized child that should rid the world of its greatest threat, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived… Two weeks since the Order lost Harry Potter to darkness. HPDM slash. Vamp!fic

**A/N: **Okay, this chapter was not beta'd. Sadly, Kimberly had a bit of an accident and wasn't able to check this one, so any mistakes or difficulties with phrases are my own. Feel free to point them out.

* * *

**Blood-Bound **

**Chapter 5**

Harry closed the door behind him and leaned against it, letting out a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. Everything was changing… Falling apart and reshaping with such speed it was hard for Harry to keep up. Two weeks ago he'd been human and hated both Snape and Malfoy with a passion that felt as though it burned his insides. _And_ he'd trusted the Order a fortnight ago.

Now, though… Now was a completely different story. He wasn't human anymore. He didn't hate Draco any longer, not now that he'd seen him acting as a human being. It was scary… The way his feelings for the blond started to shift and change overnight. Snape… Well, he still hated the man. And he still didn't trust him. But- he knew he could rely on him more that he could rely on other Order members.

Harry sighed and opened pain-filled eyes to look at the wall in front of him. He felt like an outcast and a freak and the intensity of his feelings scared him tremendously. He pushed those thoughts in a dark corner at the back of his mind and pushed himself off the door and down the badly lit corridor, his steps not making any sounds as he went. He seemed to be dragging himself, his non-existent desire to see the Potions Master making his limbs feel too heavy, the gravity of his earlier actions weighing down on his already burdened shoulders.

He sighed when he suddenly found himself in front of the kitchen door. He didn't want to go in. But he had to. He didn't have any other choice. He never really did, he realized bitterly as the door swung on its hinges at his touch and pale light filtered in the hallway. He entered, his senses kept in check for fear that he might do something to warrant a painful hex.

"_Ardere!"_ Snape snapped as soon as he entered and Harry jumped aside in shock, frightened golden-green eyes looking towards the Slytherin Head of the House.

Snape was wearing an impassive mask, the business end of his wand pointed firmly on Harry who rapidly dodged another spell, backing himself up against the wall unconsciously, his body tense and ready to obey his commands. Snape kept flinging hexes at him and the vampire walked away or jumped out of the way of each one until he was quite literally backed up in a corner. Snape aimed another spell at his feet and Harry jumped up as high as he could…

And didn't land.

What. The. Fuck?

There was a moment of stillness in the room, everything seemingly having frozen. Harry looked down at Snape and gulped, his body tensing up. When he had jumped up, he hadn't exactly expected to _attach_ himself a few feet up the _wall._

The Potions Master, for his part, lowered his wand and looked at Harry with a scowl. "You need to learn how to control that in every situation, not just when you're out of solutions. Now get down from there and sit on a chair like any other normal person, Potter," he snapped.

Harry gulped and, for once in his life, wanted to obey. But- "Sir… How do I get…? You know… Down?" he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

Snape scowled further and sighed. "You will yourself down, you incompetent fool."

The Gryffindor felt a familiar surge of anger flow through him, but he kept himself in check, focusing instead on getting back on the floor. He closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the task and, within a second, he came down with a startled yelp, landing on all fours on the ground. He waited, expecting pain to flare up his feet from the fall, but none did. He frowned, looking down at his hands. The landing seemed almost… controlled… Like the way a cat landed with feline grace and without hurting itself.

"Potter," Snape sneered, effectively drawing attention to himself. "Sit," he commanded, pointing to a chair.

Harry approached him warily, eyes trained on the wand and sat, thrusting his hands in his pockets as he did so, frowning at the bit of parchment he found in there.

"Malfoy asked me to give you this," he whispered, remembering what the piece of parchment was for and handing it to the teacher.

Snape took it and frowned at it while unfolding the paper and looking at it, eyes narrowing as he read. Harry couldn't look up at him, but made sure that he could react should anything happen. His mind kept focusing on what had just happened, shoving everything else aside. He could climb walls… He could bloody climb _walls_… That couldn't be good. Before he could dwell on it and go down a dangerous path, the other man drew his attention.

"Potter," Snape quietly said in a strained sort of voice that the boy had never heard before.

Harry looked up and frowned. Severus was scowling at the bit of parchment, his skin paler than usual and his eyes troubled.

"Do you know what Draco has written here?" he continued and panic flared through Harry's system, at the possibility of Snape finding out about how Harry had practically forced himself on the blond.

"N-no, sir," he stammered and gulped when Snape's onyx eyes sharply turned up to look at him.

"The way you were turned seems to have damaged you further than any of us initially thought," Snape drawled, seemingly looking for words to help him explain things better. "You're rejecting human contact -against your nature- with adults."

Harry swallowed heavily. This really wasn't something he wanted to discuss with the Potions Master. This wasn't something he _ever _wanted to discuss. Period.

Snape went on, not noticing -or rather ignoring- Harry's discomfort in favor of continuing: "We were supposed to help you get past your weakened state by giving you blood and with helping you control your nature. We were then supposed to get you used to human contact again. Many fledglings that have been turned unwillingly go through this. They think that anybody can hurt them and react violently to others. That may not have been the case for you, but Moody's treatment dissolved that possibility," Snape paused and waited for Harry to mull this over in his head.

Harry did just that, but his mind couldn't seem to be able to draw a conclusion. He wasn't… adverse to human touch…

'_Except that you are,_' a little impartial voice in his head said. '_You tense each time someone touches you and your first instinct is to protect yourself passively.'_

'_That's not true_,' he argued with himself. '_Malfoy…_'

He stopped. _Malfoy_. Malfoy he could touch and apparently was even willing to. Malfoy didn't expect anything from him, he didn't wait for some miracle to happen and for problems to disappear over night like the rest of the Order seemed to do. Draco, Harry realized, was _there_ for him. His thoughts then turned bitter because Draco would probably try avoiding him after tonight.

"We'll have to work on getting you used to enjoy another's touch. Probably as soon as possible. Draco has requested that he start the entire process as soon as possible," Snape went on and that shattered another belief Harry had set in his head. "We need you to lower each wall and learn to accept others. Accept that they won't hurt you for what you have become."

Harry nodded numbly, feeling himself slightly detached by all that was happening to him.

"Now," said Snape and Harry struggled to focus. "What do you know about vampires, Potter?"

Harry squirmed slightly and studied the tabletop, frowning as he tried to recall anything about his nature. Much as he tried, he couldn't remember anything past vampires being adverse to garlic, mentioned by Quirrell during their first year. He could remember some illustration he was allowed to look at since his turning, but- nothing more.

"Nothing, sir," he said in a soft voice, his entire body going rigid in wait of a blow that was sure to come.

It didn't, but Harry heard Snape shift and his eyes caught a twitching motion of the Professor's hand. But that was it.

"Potter, you would think that one would know a little about his own changes," Snape sneered.

"Professor Moody didn't allow me to look further into it, sir," Harry said slowly and was surprised to hear the other curse under his breath before sighing.

"Alright, Potter… Vampires date back centuries ago in many parts of the world. Almost every culture has its own interpretation of vampires, from China to the western part of the globe. They vary due to the Statue of Secrecy… Obliviators have altered the minds of the Muggles after their encounters with your kin. But the Muggle mind then was more complex and it could struggle against the spell. Needless to say, the vampire seems to have suffered alterations across countries. They've been thought to be evil and they're still feared among wizarding communities. But vampires aren't evil. They just are," Snape said, watching Harry's every movement.

The boy was silently watching him with vivid green eyes from under a jet-black fringe, looking curious and lost at the same time, like a lost puppy that asked you if you could take it home. Snape studied him intently, noting the abnormally large bangs under the teen's eyes. That certainly wasn't normal. Not for a vampire that had fed less than an hour ago. Snape filed that away for further investigation.

"What about-" Harry tried, but stopped to take in a shuddering breath, dreading the answer to his question. "What about special abilities?"

Snape considered before answering: "Potter, you must understand that vampires are supernatural beings. They defy the laws of God, man and physics simply by existing. Their powers are supernatural as well, but those abilities do not make them evil. That's why you can crawl on walls. You can focus your body to walk on vertical surfaces or even on ceilings if you want to. That came from the vampire's instinct to protect itself and hunt. Now, vampires possess unnatural grace for they needed to sometimes lure their prey to them. You have it as well, as you've probably noticed when you landed earlier. But, unlike any other creatures of the night, you're suppressing it. You need to stop that. It's detrimental to your health," Snape drawled, glaring at the Gryffindor. That was probably a natural expression for him when he was around the teen.

Harry nodded for him to go on, ignoring the glare. Surprisingly, Snape didn't comment but continued talking.

"You may find that you possess swiftness that no other being possesses. Never try to suppress that one either. You'll need it during the war as well. Your senses are a whole other matter. You need them to survive and you need to learn how to turn them on and off at your will," said the man, his eyes never leaving Harry, watching him like a hawk.

Harry hesitated, a question immediately springing to mind. "What if I can't hack it? What if I can't-" his voice broke slightly at this, "what if I can't learn to control it?"

Harry felt like he'd been ducked in a bucket of ice-cold water as soon as the words left his mouth. There was his greatest fear; laid out before him, voiced by his own inner demons. It was everybody's greatest fear. Even Snape's. He could read it in the sudden rush of the man's blood and his rapid heartbeat, even if his face didn't show anything. Because what would become of them if their only hope failed?

"Then, Mr. Potter," said Snape after a few moments of thought, "we are all doomed."

Harry knew that before. Hearing it from Snape in that low, certain tone didn't make it any easier. It made it even harder.

It made him want to fight when he didn't have any strength left in him. Gave him something to live for because he couldn't live for himself at this point. Better yet, it shoved another weight on his already crumbling shoulders.

"And how do I do that?" he asked after a few minutes, sensing that Snape was holding back from throwing in the usual scathing remark.

There was another pause. It was as if they couldn't talk to each other without analyzing everything first. Harry hated that. It happened with almost everyone. They were _afraid_ of him. And he hated that. Merlin, he hated that so _much_.

"The only way I am allowed to help you is by giving you blood and allowing you to discover what your abilities are. Nothing more," the Potions Master said tonelessly.

Harry nodded, not looking up at the professor. Now _that_ he could live with.

"Like every man, vampires have their own strengths and weaknesses," Snape droned on. "For instance, another can be skilled in the arts of seduction and mind games while you are gifted with great strength and resistance to illness."

"How can you tell?" Harry asked quietly.

Snape considered the question before answering, and Harry briefly wondered if the man really was a drama queen, or if he did it just to aggravate him.

"You have survived quite some time with no proper sustenance while your body rejected animal blood, Potter. Any other vampire such as yourself would have wasted away, much as it pains me to admit it. As for the strength… You were capable of sending a fully grown man with a strong built to the floor without trying too much."

Harry nodded, accepting this.

"Any other… special abilities you may possess will reveal themselves with time. Meanwhile we need to focus on your emotional strength," Snape went on. "Due to the way that you were turned, Potter, you must understand that it is _vital_ for us to stabilize you. An un-stabilized vampire will certainly have two ways he could evolve: into a monster or into a shell of its former self that would soon fade away. You seemed to have picked the latter. We cannot afford to lose you, Potter."

Snape paused, allowing the teen to think things over and draw his own grim conclusions. But Harry's face remained impassive and the slight glaze of the emerald orbs told Severus that Harry was retreating into his mind.

"Potter!" he snapped.

Harry flinched and pulled away, but quickly regained composure. The professor ground his teeth together and _Accio_-ed a large book which he turned towards Harry.

The boy frowned as he read the title: '_Bloodlines: A Nearly Complete History of Vampires and Their Habits'_. Casting a quick glance at Snape, Harry opened the tome and found himself staring at a picture of three creatures such as himself. One was cowering in a corner, its face a blank mask. The second was showing off its canines and had a look and aura that rivaled Voldemort's. The third, however, seemed to be a normal human being…

Harry's fingers caressed the page over the last image, a somewhat longing look in his eyes.

Snape noticed this. "That's what we're trying to help you become, Potter," he said slowly.

Harry swallowed and looked up. He wanted to say something like _'thank you'_, but he didn't think Snape would appreciate it all that much so he kept quiet.

"Turn the page and let us begin," said Snape and Harry did what he was asked without complaint.

They stood there for hours, Harry reading through the tome and stopping randomly to ask some questions. But even with the new task, his mind couldn't stop reeling with the information he had received over the past few days.

"Sir?" he asked quietly, inwardly asking himself what had possessed him to open his mouth.

Snape acknowledged him with an undignified grunt.

"The first picture", he paused to gather his bearings, "is that what happened to Lacrima Malfoy?"

Time seemed to freeze for a moment and Harry briefly wondered if a repeat of the Pensieve incident would occur. It didn't, but Snape did snap at him and told him to mind his own business.

Harry hasted to oblige.

The hours seemed to drag themselves after that. Harry was aware that dawn was nearing, but he couldn't concentrate on that. He felt wretched… His muscles had cramped after sitting in the same place for so long and his eyes hurt from reading in the dim light. He could feel his canines starting to hurt from the need to feed and his senses heightened nearly unbearably.

He breathed deeply and stared blankly at the page. He couldn't focus anymore. He needed to get out of there… Snape's blood and heartbeat were like siren's song to his ears… So tempting, yet dangerous.

He started violently when the tome closed itself pointedly over his fingers and Severus stood up stiffly. Harry tensed, waiting for a blow that should come for his inability to concentrate on his task.

"Come here, Potter," Snape barked and the boy did as he was told, albeit hesitantly so.

He was unpleasantly surprised when Snape's hand shot towards him and grabbed his arm in a vice grip. Harry winced, but did not complain as the professor sharply yanked the boy towards him, one arm coming to rest between his shoulder blades while the other held his hand. He stiffened, hating what the close proximity did to his canines.

"Feed, Potter," Snape ordered.

Harry hesitated. He wanted to do it, yet didn't. Good Lord, but what would happen if he lost control with Snape just as he had with Malfoy? He cringed at the thought of giving_ Snape_ a hand job.

"Potter," Snape said impatiently.

Harry gulped and unconsciously turned. His body leaned forward and he wanted to stop himself, but knew that it wouldn't do much good. It would only drag things much longer.

He sighed resignedly as he sank his fangs in Snape's jugular. Warm blood immediately flowed into his mouth and Harry relaxed minutely. His body seemed to come alive once again, though the urge to make the Potions Master come in his hand never rose. Harry couldn't have felt more relieved if he tried to.

He drank slowly, careful not to inflict any pain on the other as large mouthfuls of blood were ingested. All too soon, though, he felt Snape's heartbeat slow down and he reluctantly pulled back and licked the wound. Snape released him then, and Harry staggered backwards, looking at the floor.

"Dismissed," Snape said and the vampire walked quickly towards the door, trying not to seem like he wanted to break into a run –and failing.

He stopped, though, hand on the knob, biting his lip as he did so. He turned his head slightly sideways and looked at Snape from under his fringe.

The man was sitting on a chair now, rubbing his neck where the bite had been, a slightly tired expression on his face.

"You were the third donor, weren't you?" Harry asked, the question having formed in his head as he read.

Snape tensed and his head shot up to look at him. Obsidian eyes were calculation and a little defensive. Harry nodded, as though his thoughts were confirmed.

"You loved her."

It wasn't a question.

"Dare I inquire who you are talking about, Potter?" said Snape snidely.

"Lacrima," Harry said so softly that you had to strain your ears to hear him.

Snape's usually passive face was now a myriad of conflicting emotions. As anger began surfacing, Harry continued much in the same tone: "It's okay, though… I won't tell anyone. I just needed to know why you'd help me."

Snape didn't say anything and his façade turned stormy once again as the teen slipped out of the room and into the dark corridor.

By the time Harry made it back to his room, he was exhausted. Despite the fact that he'd just fed he just… He felt wrung out. Almost like there was no more energy within him. His own body felt like it was moving on its own accord, going though the motions his subconscious had memorized. He entered his only refuge, closing the door carefully behind him, not wanting to wake Malfoy up.

Malfoy had received the room across from him. Lupin said it was the only one available. But Harry knew better. It was the most warded room in the house. Malfoy couldn't try and pull any stunts from there. Harry couldn't help but blame the Order for that. The one person who helped him willingly was treated much the same way he was. It was just… unfair.

He sighed deeply and turned around, noting Draco's still lingering scent in the room. Harry couldn't help but draw a bit of comfort from it. Draco seemed to be the only constant in his life now… He was always there, either beside him or on the other side of the Quidditch pitch, he was always _there_.

He sighed again and got his hoodie off, leaving a grey shirt on and undressed his pants, all the while searching his stack of clothes for a pair of pajama bottoms. He found some plaid flannel ones and donned them, haphazardly discarding his jeans on the floor. He felt too exhausted to even fold them or mind the untidiness. Harry turned towards the bed.

And froze.

There, on the small cot, lay Draco, his face relaxed in sleep, eyes moving under closed lids, following the movements of his dream. Harry swallowed and took a hesitant step closer, taking in Malfoy's appearance with a sudden pang of guilt. The boy was sleeping on his side, one arm tucked away under his head, looking more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him. His platinum blonde hair was chaotically spread on the pillow, giving the impression of a halo. Draco's skin was pale… paler than usual and dark circles underlined his closed eyes. Harry knew he was responsible for those. He and his feeding habits.

Draco looked so… at peace that the vampire's heart _ached_. It ached because he knew that Draco would never let his guard down like that around anybody during waking hours. Ached because he was the reason for that… he and his inability to accept him before everything was shot to hell.

The boy bit back a sob and reached out, vaguely aware that he had knelt beside the bed at some point. He wanted to touch the blond. Wanted to feel his fair skin under his fingers. But he stopped before he could do that. He wasn't allowed to touch, wasn't allowed to reach out. He was condemned to an eternity in darkness and loneliness. He had no right to taint someone such as Draco, even if Draco was hardly innocent.

Malfoy suddenly stirred and muttered in his sleep, his other hand coming out from under the covers, seemingly searching for something. Harry's own outstretched hand moved on its own accord and entwined its fingers with the other's. The Slytherin sighed contentedly and pulled the vampire's arm towards him, a small smile playing on his lips.

It was during that moment of unintentional closeness that Harry realized something that should have been obvious to him for a very long time. He loved Draco. It wasn't deep and it wasn't the romantic sort of love that cheesy novels always spoke about. But it was the sort of love that could grow into that. The reasons why were quite unclear still… After all… They were Malfoy and Potter, Hogwarts' currently pair of enemies. They were exact opposites of the other and they attempted to get each other in trouble more often than not. But- Hate had shifted and molded itself into an entirely new feeling.

The vampire was startled to realize something else: beneath the hate, there was passion and fondness. Harry realized that the constant jabs and the insults were just veiled excuses to get close to the blond. And the way Harry had followed him throughout the entire 6th year… He was trying to look out for Draco. Make sure he wasn't in too deep… Make sure that he could help if things got too effed up.

'_Love and hate are two sides of the same coin,_' Hermione had said once, when she thought he couldn't hear her.

Harry's instincts were telling him the same thing now. Only… he knew he'd botched things up. He knew that he didn't deserve to be loved and he was painfully aware that he couldn't love back. Not without endangering the object of his affection. And… There was the matter of_ him_ loving Draco. But Draco would never love him back. Could never love him back because of what he was…

He pushed back the burning sensation in his eyes and took a deep breath. He watched Draco's face and slipped in bed beside him without even making a conscious decision. No, he couldn't love and be loved in return. He couldn't reach out and be held in return… But he could steal a glimpse of what his life could have evolved into. He could lay there for a few hours in the company of the one person he could trust now.

Draco sighed happily when the bed dipped and let go of Harry's hand, opting instead for circling said arm around the other boy, drawing him closer. Harry allowed a couple of tears to flow freely from his eyes and curled into himself, his head making its way under Draco's chin. His hand splayed over Draco's heart and Harry allowed himself to listen to the blonde's heartbeat.

The Gryffindor felt overwhelmed by everything. This felt so _right_. Being there, in Draco's arms felt like heaven in the hell that had become Harry's life. Silent tears made their way down his face as his shoulders started to shake slightly.

Gods, his life was so unfair!

He was dimly aware of Draco's arm unconsciously tightening around him and rubbing comforting circles on his back. Harry felt like something inside him would soon break and forced himself to calm down.

Gradually, his sobs died down and his tears stopped flowing as the exhaustion caught up with him in the end. He fell asleep, lulled by the sound of Draco's even breathing in his ears.

* * *

For the first time in what seemed like years, Harry slept without dreaming of how he was turned or about Voldemort or Sirius. For the first time, he slept soundly and for that he was grateful.

His mind sort of floated vaguely between the dark haze of sleep and the sharp reality that hovered just beyond that darkness. He couldn't help but wonder what had woken him up in the first place. And then he realized that the bed was shifting and he blearily opened his eyes, making a tiny sound of protest at the motions. His hand reached out for the memory of a warm body beside his and encountered only tangled sheets.

Before he could feel the loss of Draco's presence though, long, warm fingers ran though his hair in a soothing manner. Harry's sleep-fogged eyes made out pale features framed by pale blond hair hovering above him. Draco.

"Shh," the Slytherin said softly, fingers still petting Harry's raven locks. "It's just me. Go back to sleep…"

Green eyes sought out mercury ones and narrowed a little in confusion.

The look on Malfoy's face… His features were soft, almost caring as he carded his hand through black hair. His eyes were soft too… holding a sort of peace that Harry had never seen around the blond when he was awake. The vampire sighed and his eyes slid shut as he burned the expression on Draco's face to his memory. The bed dipped suddenly and Malfoy kept up the motion of his fingers, lulling the other back to peaceful sleep.

Harry thought he felt Draco's lips on his temples before sleep claimed him once again.

* * *

When Harry woke up the second time, it was night. He could feel the darkness reaching out towards him, trying to claim him. A single candle lit the room from the bedside table, making shadows dance across the wall in front of him.

"Potter," a voice called and it was then that Harry became aware of the hand that was gently, yet urgently shaking his shoulder. He tensed and turned, senses strung and ready to lash out. But the tension drained from him in favor of confusion.

Draco was standing by the bed, his expression one of concern and apprehension.

"What?" Harry asked stupidly, sleep muddling his thoughts.

"There's been an attack," said Draco and his words seemed to have slapped Harry awake.

"What?" the vampire questioned again, this time fear making his voice.

Draco shook his head, but there was no mistaking the worry beneath the gesture. "They won't tell me anything. They just told me to wake you up."

Harry scrambled out of bed, his head a whirlwind of contradicting thoughts and emotions. He didn't know how he'd ended up in the hallway, or how he managed to descend on the stairs with the way his body was shaking, but as he entered the living room he became aware of Draco's hand on his back, ready to support him.

To say that the Order was completely _out_ of order when they arrived was probably the understatement of the year. Members were all scrambling about, some looming over a map, some arguing about the best way to approach the situation and some simply waiting for everything to come to a stop and receive their instructions. Harry noticed that some of them were already using the Floo network to get in other places.

Both he and Draco stood a considerable distance away. Draco kept his hand on the other, willing himself to be of some comfort while Harry tried –and failed- to make himself seem smaller. The overcrowded room apparently made him revert to his 'frightened animal' state.

Lupin spotted them and came closer, his face looking older than usual.

"Harry, Mr. Malfoy", he acknowledged quickly and then continued without preamble, "there has been an attack on a wizarding community in Dublin. Apparently, the Death Eaters have caused a lot of damage… We're going to go there and see what we can do. I want you both to stay here and not leave the house."

"How can I help?" Harry asked, the hero within rising to the front.

He felt Draco tensing behind him, but ignored him in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

Lupin shook his head, however: "You can't help. It's too dangerous for both you and the others around you. You can't control your vampire urges, Harry. You'll go insane within ten minutes of arriving there. Best you stay here…"

Harry shook his head desperately. Couldn't Remus see that he needed to do this? That he needed to prove that he could be of help even if he was a creature of the night? He _had _to do _something_ to help.

"I'm sorry, Harry. But you're just not ready. Severus has told us of your progress and understanding of what you are… But- you know just as well as I do that you're a liability out there."

Harry wanted to scream and cry and quite possibly throw the biggest tantrum in the history of mankind. He was deemed _useless_. And he couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand the thought of being of no use in a battle while others were out there fighting.

It was then that he became painfully aware of the fact that he, Draco and Lupin were the only ones left in the room. And he was soon going to remain behind while everyone else fought a battle in the war.

"Promise me you won't leave this place, Harry. You can't face this, not now… Neither of you can. You are emotionally unstable and Draco's wanted by You-Know-Who," Lupin pleaded and Harry found himself agreeing even before he'd made a conscious decision about it.

The man nodded. He lifted a hand and squeezed Harry's shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting manner and turned to leave. As he reached the fireplace, he turned to look at the two boys apologetically before taking a fistful of Floo powder and throwing it in the fireplace, speaking the address loud and clear.

Harry couldn't help but feel somewhat betrayed by everything that was happening around him. But he did have to agree… He _was_ unstable, and understandably so.

"Come on," said Draco and guided him towards the dilapidated sofa.

Harry plunked down on the edge of it, his eyes focused on the floor, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Gods, he hated this _so_ much… He sensed Draco taking a breath in preparation of speaking, but Harry cut him off.

"I want to stay here and wait."

Draco nodded, as if he had been expecting this. "I know. I wanted to suggest you get comfortable. It's probably going to be a long night."

Harry nodded and wriggled further up on the couch until his back was resting against it. He drew his knees up to his chest, placing his heels on the edge of the sofa. Draco pulled out his wand and transfigured the furniture into a larger, more comfortable one. Harry shot him a grateful look and a muttered '_thank you'_ before training his eyes on the fireplace.

The fireplace seemed to be alight every night. The Dementors had multiplied over the year at a fast rate and now the weather suffered greatly from it. Fog and chill spread throughout Britain… Gone were the sunny afternoons and that hot weather that compelled you to go to the beach and relax.

They slipped into silence, contemplating the whole situation they found themselves in.

Harry's thoughts twirled in his head agonizingly, finding their way to what had transpired the night before between Draco and him. He gulped and tensed, trying hard not to panic as the realization from earlier that day slammed to the forefront. Inch by inch, he regained control of himself, hoping that his companion hadn't noticed the brief change.

"What is it?" the Slytherin asked, genuinely curious.

Harry pondered if he should answer him… He figured that he owed him as much, though. He sighed deeply before taking the plunge.

"Why did you allow things to get so out of hand last night?" Harry asked quietly, emerald eyes fixed on the flames burning merrily in the fireplace.

Draco let out a sigh. To Harry it sort of sounded long-suffering. "Potter," said Malfoy. "You can't rape the willing. I _wanted_ you to do that to me, else I would have stopped you at any given time," he spoke with a hint of humor in his usually cold voice.

"But _why_?" Harry insisted, turning to look the blond in the eye. "Why would you do that? Why would you _want_ that?" There was a somewhat desperate and pleading note in Potter's voice.

Draco swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from the Gryffindor's intense gaze. "Maybe I just want you… maybe I always wanted just you," he whispered, his voice unusually tight.

They stared at each other for a few moments, Draco's cheeks gradually tinting pink. A lump formed in Harry's throat and he looked away, eyes settling once again on the dancing flames. "You can't mean that," he softly spoke. "You can't want… that," he added sadly, unable to bring himself to say '_you can't want_ me'.

"Who says I can't?" Draco demanded gently and Harry heard him shifting slightly, drawing nearer to him.

The vampire sighed, his whole posture seemingly folding into itself, as though he was trying to make himself smaller… less significant. "You can't want something like… what I've become. You can't want a monster," he murmured, turning his head away from the light and further away from the Slytherin.

Malfoy, for his part, was unimpressed, for he grabbed Harry's chin in one swift movement and forced the raven-haired boy to face him.

"You are not a monster," he said forcefully with barely contained anger and with such conviction that Harry almost believed him. Almost. "You are not a monster," he repeated more softly, fingers loosening their grip and caressing the deathly pale skin.

Harry gulped, a multitude of emotions crossing his face, but the most lingering and heart-wrenching one was desperate longing… The burning need to be accepted, to be possibly wanted and not viewed like a dangerous creature that everybody needed to stay away from. And Malfoy could see the barriers raised within the other teenager. Those brick walls behind which Harry held himself, afraid of reaching out, afraid of taking comfort for fear that he could hurt those around him.

"I want you," Draco said and before Harry could react, the blonde's lips were on his.

It was a chaste kiss that lasted only a second, but it shocked Harry out of his mind. When Draco pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, no thoughts could be formed in the Gryffindor's head. It was as if his mind up and left without a forwarding notice. Draco leaned in again and kissed the Gryffindor's lips once more, maintaining the contact longer. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the simple sensation of a soft mouth against his. "I want you," the blond repeated again once he pulled away.

He went through the same motions two more times, each time saying the same words. And with each whispered word, Harry's walls crumbled a little more, Draco's gentleness stripping away his resolve to not give in to temptation. Ever so tenderly, Draco moved his thumb to Harry's chin and applied a bit of pressure there and Potter could do nothing else than part his lips slightly. The blonde kissed him again, capturing Harry's bottom lip with his teeth and biting it a little before soothing it with his tongue. Harry gasped and Draco used this to slip his tongue gentle-soft between the Gryffindor's teeth. He licked at the other boy's tongue until it responded hesitantly, one hand coming up to stroke Draco's hair off his forehead. They kissed like it was a slow dance, no hurry and no destination, tongues sliding slowly against each other, uncertainly massaging and exploring for the first time.

Their motions were inexperienced in what concerned each other, but it felt so _right_ that Harry wanted to cry… wanted to keep on doing it until the world would disappear and there would be nothing left but Draco. Draco and his sweet mouth, Draco and his gentle hands that still cupped his face, Draco and his lack of fear when he looked at him.

"I want you," the Slytherin said again breathlessly after he pulled away, while Harry whimpered at the loss of contact. "Please. Let me prove it to you. Let me _show_ you that I do," he pleaded in a way that was so unbecoming of a Malfoy that Harry briefly wondered if it was indeed Draco there with him.

Harry opened his eyes and looked into Malfoy's searchingly. What he saw there made his breath catch in his chest. Draco was looking at him with such emotion it made Harry's heart ache. It wasn't the epic love girls dreamed about, but there _was_ love in those darkened mercury eyes. The kind of love that's innocent and pure and still in its incipient stages, which had the potential to grow into something so much more. Something that Harry wanted _so_ much, but was afraid of believing in. And the lust… Harry wondered how Draco could hold on to his control because there was only a sliver of silver there, the pupils having dilated considerably.

Harry swallowed and covered Draco's left hand with his own, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the pale hand, buying himself more time to think things over. Unfortunately for him, Draco was well aware of how the Gryffindor's mind worked after having studied him for the past six years at Hogwarts, and spoke again. "Please… I promise not to hurt you."

Harry looked at him with emerald eyes which were whirlpools of longing, trust and fear. But despite the nearly overwhelming sensations, Harry nodded and watched in amazement as a slow sweet smile formed on the blonde's face. Draco then kissed him again with more fire and more passion than Harry could have ever thought possible. It was as if liquid fire scorched his insides, starting with the pit of his stomach which was a mass of twirling snakes, and ending with nerve endings he never knew he even _possessed_.

Draco coaxed his tongue out to play and –oh, _gods!_- sucked on it like it was a special treat and Harry could feel himself reacting to _that_ stimulation. He moaned softly and then whined low in his throat when Draco released him. But Malfoy just moved to his jaw, placing feather-soft kisses there that drove Harry insane and helped him lose himself in the sensations, forgetting about the outside world. He focused on the way Draco's lips slowly reached his ear where he licked the shell, causing a shiver to run through Harry's body and a loud gasp to escape his lips.

Draco chuckled lightly: "Sensitive there, are we?"

Harry nodded dumbly and drew in a sharp breath as Malfoy pointedly bit his earlobe and licked the flesh, soothing away the tiny pinpricks sensation that Harry experienced there. Fire spread through Harry once again, this time centering in his already hardened cock and he was pretty sure that the intensity of the sensations were coming from his heightened senses. He gasped and moaned when Draco bit his neck over the now almost useless artery where the pulse point would have been. For a moment, Harry was afraid that Draco would freak at his lack of a heartbeat, but Malfoy never stopped his ministrations and that helped the Gryffindor relax considerably.

Draco bit hard at the juncture between the neck and shoulder and Harry moaned loudly because _bloody hell!_ That felt good and it did very unusual things to his libido. The vampire wound his fingers in platinum locks and pressed Draco closer to himself and he could feel the Slytherin's smirk on his skin.

'_Bloody smug bastard,_' Harry thought fondly and trailed his other hand on the inside of Draco's thights, bringing it upwards and going purposefully around the jean-clad erection the blond sported. That elicited a low growl from the other boy and Harry felt particularly smug himself. That was until Malfoy retailed by pinching his nipples though his shirt, causing jolts of electricity to happily career throughout the Chosen One's body. Draco's fingers the traced Harry's ribcage, applying just a bit of pressure that left the vampire craving more, hands coming down to settle on the raven-haired boy's hips before coming up again. This elicited a small gasp from Harry because Malfoy's hands found their way under his shirt. The feel of Draco's warm fingers on his skin was something the Gryffindor realized he desperately wanted.

Draco caught his eyes and tugged at the loose gray shirt and Potter nodded quickly, hair flopping a little with the motion. Draco swallowed hard and pulled said shirt over the boy's head, one of his hands coming down to caress the exposed chest. Harry -having always been on the skinny side- wasn't toned as most boys his age, but his muscles were defined in a way that was attractive and tended to add to his youth. Draco couldn't help but press a lingering kiss on Harry's collarbone, after which he proceeded to_ lick_ his way downwards, pausing to take one of the Gryffindor's nipples in his mouth, teasing the other with his fingers and enjoying the way Harry's breath caught and shuddered when it was released. Smirking slightly, Malfoy continued his path, using one hand to gently push Harry on his back, just as his tongue found the boy's abdominal muscles which were trembling slightly.

A hand was suddenly tangled in his silky locks and tugging desperately upwards. Draco allowed himself to be guided to Harry's mouth and they kissed again. It was more passionate than anything they'd shared and the Malfoy heir broke for air when Harry tugged his shirt over his head and threw it in some obscure part of the room before locking their lips back together. It was as though something broke that moment, as though restraint was something so insignificant that they wondered why they'd thought of it in the first place.

Malfoy's hands trailed downwards and long fingers gripped the waistband of Harry's pajama pants. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Harry's body tensed and Draco looked up, remembering what had happened during the boy's turning. He swallowed thickly and tried conveying everything he felt in a look. Green eyes looked in his own silver ones and an understanding was passed between them, for Harry nodded nearly imperceptibly and lifted his hips slightly. Malfoy nodded and kissed Harry's chest while pulling down the blue bottoms.

"Vanishing spell," Harry said a little breathlessly and Draco swore he could have smacked himself over the head for forgetting about magic. Then again… in the current situation he supposed he was entitled to forgetting about spells and the lot.

He looked up at Potter's flushed, smirking face and made an instant decision to wipe that smirk off his face. Two people were allowed to smirk in that house, and Potter wasn't one of them.

Swiftly moving up, he kissed the Gryffindor senseless, all the while waving his hand absentmindedly over the lower parts of their bodies, causing the remaining clothing to disappear, allowing skin to skin contact to make them both gasp and moan.

"Fuck," Harry cursed when Draco -ever the Slytherin- rolled his hips, rubbing their erections together.

Draco chuckled lightly against Potter's collarbone. "If you want…"

"I do," said the vampire, having completely missed the teasing quality of Malfoy's reply.

Draco's head snapped up and green clashed with grey. Malfoy's throat constricted a little. There was no fear in Harry's eyes, but complete trust… Something he thought he'd never see in the boy's green orbs, especially not directed at him.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked and the vampire nodded rapidly, obviously nervous despite the fact that he was agreeing to it.

Malfoy gulped and slid up, treading his fingers through raven locks soothingly, lips searching Harry's mouth. Draco could _taste_ the anticipation on the Gryffindor's lips as his tongue slid against Harry's slowly. He broke off, eyes locked on emerald orbs above him as his body slid down. Draco paused on his way down. He lowered his head over Harry's abdomen and dipped his tongue in the vampire's navel, eliciting a surprised gasp from the other. Draco smiled and repeated the motion, aware of what it did to the boy's already hard cock. He didn't cease his teasing as the vampire writhed underneath him.

"Draco, please," Harry begged after a few minutes, his body shaking with the need of being touched lower.

Draco obeyed, licking his way downward, tongue lapping at the trail of dark hair on Harry's lower belly. He raised his eyes and locked them with Harry's as long fingers closed around the base of Harry's erection. The boy gasped and closed his eyes, hips bucking upwards a bit. He settled back down and made a visible effort to control his body before opening darkened emerald eyes to look at Draco.

Draco smiled reassuringly and lowered his head, eyes never leaving Harry's. His pink tongue slid between his lips and licked the slit of the Gryffindor's cock.

"Merlin!" Harry groaned.

Draco smiled and licked Harry's cock from base to tip, tongue dragging along the vein on the underside of the vampire's hard shaft. Harry made a little breathless noise as Draco's tongue trailed back down to the base where it continued to go downwards still. Draco licked at the other's balls, confident in what he was doing, encouraged by Harry's pliancy.

He moved again, tongue once more trailing Harry's cock, lips following this time, planting kisses on every patch of sensitive skin. Draco's hand came up to rest on a trembling tight as those talented lips closed around the head now. The tongue pressed upward, the lips tightened and slid down. Harry's eyes were wide as he watched Draco work his magic. Then Draco broke eye contact and _really_ started in. His blond head bobbed along Harry's length, and the hand on the inside of his thigh began to wander, too. Harry's balls were held, as though being weighed thoughtfully, then stroked a little. Harry, for his part, was shaking and doing everything in his power to keep himself from grabbing Draco's head and pressing him onward.

"Oh, gods!" Harry's shaky voice said and Draco opened his eyes to look at him.

Harry's fingers were curled in the sofa's material, his head thrown back, exposing his pale neck. Red lips were parted, allowing air to rapidly rush past them in an erratic pattern. Draco hummed in appreciation at the sight and Harry's body made a sudden motion, a combination between a thrust upwards and a restraining of that motion. Draco frowned a bit at that, but took Harry deeper still, relaxing the muscles of his throat and swallowing around Harry's cock to ward off his gag reflex. Harry moaned loudly at this and Draco hummed again.

"Draco… Draco, I…" Harry babbled nearly incoherently but Draco understood anyway and hummed slightly just as Harry came long and hard.

Malfoy swallowed everything, feeling satisfied by his new-found ability to bring the Gryffindor to this point. After the last drop of come was swallowed down, Draco released Harry's now flaccid cock and looked up.

"Okay?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse from the blowjob.

Harry looked down, his expression slightly dazed and awed. His eyes were of the most vibrant green Draco had ever seen and he counted that as a plus. Harry seemed to remember himself and he nodded, pulling his lower lip between his teeth, looking for all his worth like the most beautiful sight Draco had ever seen.

The blond felt a smile tug at his lips as he slid up and planted a kiss on Harry's warm forehead. Harry shivered slightly and lightly trailed his fingers up Draco's body, over his stomach and over his ribs, coming to rest on Draco's neck and then on his cheeks. Draco lowered his head, his mouth brushing over pale skin until it reached Harry's lips and captured them in a kiss that was more tongue than anything else.

"Merlin, I want you," said Draco breathlessly after he pulled away to bite at the other's jaw.

For the briefest of moments, Harry tensed, but he then spread his legs wide apart in silent offering. "Then take me," he agreed in a soft voice that was meant to be reassuring, but couldn't quite veil the nervousness.

Draco pulled back and locked his eyes with Harry's. He'd expected to see something akin to fear there. But there was none. Instead, there was the natural anxiousness of the situation, combined with a large amount of want, lust and something Draco couldn't exactly place.

Swallowing hard, suddenly finding his own nerves, Draco reached out with his hand and Summoned his wand, his eyes never leaving those of the vampire. He wordlessly cast a few cleaning charms, along with lubrication and stretching ones that made Harry squirm a little uncomfortably. Spells in place, Draco allowed the wand to slip from his fingers and drop with a clatter on the floor. He settled between Harry's legs again, the hand that had been resting on Harry's hip moving to the boy's tight, his inner-tight and then slid upwards, brushing Harry's hole.

The Gryffindor started slightly and relaxed as Draco's finger simply circled the tight ring of muscles. Then Draco pushed one long finger inside slowly, careful not to startle his partner and Harry couldn't help but gasp at the sensation and the raw emotion showing on Draco's face. The digit prodded slightly, stretching the muscles to accommodate them.

"Relax," Draco whispered and placed a soft kiss on the jut of Harry's collarbone while another finger joined the first.

Harry nodded, hair flopping and sticking to his forehead where beads of sweat had formed. Draco noted that Harry's cock was showing interest in his ministrations and -given Harry's history with sexual encounters- he couldn't help but feel relieved by that.

And then Harry arched his back with a little cry and Draco knew he'd found _that_ little bundle of nerves.

"Draco," Harry gasped as another finger was added to the bunch and Harry pushed down on them out of sheer instinct. "Oh, gods…"

Feeling like he could come from the way Harry's face twisted in pleasure, Draco retracted his fingers and smiled at the whine of protest that elicited from his lover. He reached up and settled his hand on the juncture of Harry's neck and shoulder.

"Look at me," he said.

And Harry did, his face showing trust, despite the way his abdominal muscles shivered constantly. Draco smiled again and urged Harry to circle his waist with his feet as the head of his cock found its way to the boy's entrance. He pressed in a little and was surprised to see Harry making a valid effort not to tense up.

Draco pushed in slowly, biting his lip in an attempt to stop himself from ramming in that _ohgodssotighthot!_ channel. Sweat dripped down his body, pooling almost uncomfortably at the small of his back and on his neck where his hair started clinging to his skin. But that was okay because the feel of Harry around him, surrounding him in tight heat drove almost all rational though out of his mind.

He watched Harry's face as he buried his cock in him to the hilt. Harry winced momentarily and Draco stopped, allowing the other to adjust to the intrusion. He kissed Harry's flushed chest and collarbone in a way that was surprisingly gentle, given the situation.

"Merlin, Draco, _move!_" Harry said, tightening his legs around the blond, fingers coming up to tangle in the platinum locks at the back of Draco's neck.

Draco happily obliged, pulling out almost entirely before slamming his hips upwards slowly. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head backwards as his mouth opened, releasing a breathy _'oh!'_. Draco repeated the motion a couple of times and it wasn't until Harry gathered the courage to meet thrust for thrust that he increased the pace.

Harry moaned deeply when the blond changed angles and hit his prostate. "Gods, Draco! Harder… Oh, Merlin, _yes_!"

Draco groaned and increased the rhythm of their coupling, gasping, moaning and panting with each descend into that welcoming heat of his lover's body. And then, guided by instinct, Draco leaned forward just as pleasure drove Harry's cuspids to the front.

"Bite me," he spoke roughly ,lifting his hand to Harry's lips and Harry moaned at the demand.

There was no struggle this time. No moral high ground to which Harry chose to run. There was just lust and pleasure thrown in the game.

Harry's canines latched to Draco's wrist, tearing the flesh there and allowing sweet blood to flow in his mouth as Draco's thrusts became erratic. The blood was thick with heat and something Harry was unable to pin-point. It coursed throughout his body and seemed to spread, almost as though it was… _multiplying_ on its own, combining with Harry's own blood. The sensations seemed to drive Harry wild and the vampire moaned deeply and came with a muffled cry.

It was all a hazy blur then… A blur of white bliss and sense of completion. Harry was only vaguely aware of Draco reaching his own orgasm, the blood haze and the force of his own high having muddled his brain.

Harry didn't exactly know when he had healed Draco's bite wounds, or when Draco collapsed on him with all the grace of a drunken elephant. He didn't know when Draco stretched his body over his in a protective gesture, a pale hand stroking the side of his face. But he did know right there and then, that he had never felt this happy before… Never felt this wanted and safe… Never felt so at _home_.

Sometime during his descent from the heaven he'd been lifted to, Harry realized that Draco was shivering slightly as he clung to him.

A different sort of haze enveloped Harry then. It wasn't… pleasant or scary, but somewhat uncomfortable. A shiver ran through his own body as the cloud thickened in his head and Harry felt as if he was being controlled by someone else. Harry felt his canines grow and his tongue scratch itself on one of them, blood flooding his mouth from the wound. His hand tugged at Draco's damp hair and the blond latched his lips to his own, his tongue slipping between Harry's parted lips. Draco sucked lightly at his bloodied tongue and the haze vanished, leaving the two teens to continue their kiss.

When Draco finally pulled away, Harry felt dazed from the intensity and mixture of emotions and his wired senses.

"What was that?" he asked in slightly awed toned.

Draco chuckled, his silver eyes shining with amusement as he looked at his lover. "That was called sex, Potter," he replied smugly.

Normally, Harry would have been annoyed, but all he could feel now was a sense of fondness and love. He grinned almost lazily before catching himself and suppressing it. "I was referring to that last kiss, you plonker," he said good-naturedly.

Draco looked at him without the mask and Harry could see the emotions flying across his face. There was a hint of uncertainty there, covered by happiness, contentment and some others that Harry couldn't be arsed to identify.

"It wasn't bad, Harry," Draco finally said, his face and tone soft and earnest.

Harry nodded slightly, accepting this for the moment being. The blond smiled softly before leaning up and kissing Harry's sweaty forehead, pushing away raven locks that stuck to his skin. He then slipped out of the Gryffindor, causing him to wince slightly at the loss.

"Could we stay like this just a while longer?" Harry asked in a hushed voice, afraid of being denied that simple pleasure.

Draco shook his head and Harry felt his stomach drop a little… Until Draco spoke in a calm voice: "I wasn't going anywhere."

Harry sighed with relief and reveled in the feeling of Draco sitting atop of him, head resting on his shoulder and one hand cupping his cheek and part of his neck.

--Paragraph Break-- OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Harry didn't know how long they sat there naked, soaking up each other's warmth and simply enjoying each other's company, but it was well past midnight when they decided that the Order would be back soon enough. They were forced to move, seeing as being caught with their pants (or clothes) down by the sudden arrival of the _entire_ organization would forever cause a dent to their dignity.

As Harry donned his pajama bottoms, he stole a few surreptitious glances at his new lover, inwardly debating whether to aboard the subject of their relationship or not. Truth be told… He didn't know if he could have Draco. Not with the Horcruxes weighing down on his shoulders and certainly not with what he had become…

But as he put on his T-shirt, the realization hit him- Harry didn't _want_ to give this up. He didn't want to be so alone anymore. It was selfish, he knew that, but hadn't he suffered enough? He wanted to feel strong arms around him, feel the pleasure of Draco inside of him once more, be the one Draco bestowed kisses upon and to just _stop being_ _lonely_. He needed to feel safe and desired and he knew that there was a chance that he'd be denied access to that.

And _that_ was exactly what stopped him from asking questions he desperately wanted answers to.

So lost in the hell of his own fears and emotions, he did not notice Draco come to stand in front of him until the blond grabbed his chin and forced Harry to look him in the eye. "What's wrong?" Draco asked gently and the tone nearly shattered something inside him.

Harry fought for control over his emotions, afraid of how his voice might crack if he opened his mouth. Draco's thumbs traced his full lips, a silent acknowledgement of the time Harry needed to compose himself.

"Where do we go from here?" he asked after a few long moments, closing his eyes against the rejection that he was sure would come.

Draco chuckled. "Wherever we want," the boy answered simply.

Harry opened his eyes to the sight of Draco smiling a slow sweet smile that promised so much for them both. His breath caught in his throat and Draco leaned in and kissed his lips chastely. It was so surreal that Harry believed himself to be dreaming.

Draco pulled away and smiled softly at him as he turned and pointed his wand at the couch, restoring it to its original aspect. It was just after the spell ended that Harry's head jerked up, golden eyes trained on the fireplace.

"I think someone's trying to come back," he answered the question in Draco's eyes.

Indeed, it was a couple of moments later that the fireplace turned emerald green and two figures stepped through. And then another pair… Two by two, the Order members returned to headquarters, tumbling out of the flames more or less graciously. Harry's breath hitched slightly as Ron and Hermione appeared. His eyes met theirs and his world crumbled a little more.

Hermione had a slightly wary expression on her face while Ron's showed nothing. They knew.

A warm hand settled on his elbow and Harry leaned into the touch. Draco was his only anchor now…

Another pair appeared in the flames and Harry's senses took notice of them both, his body going rigid with tension.

One of the men was cloaked, but Harry recognized the scent: Snape. The other, however… Harry felt like he knew him, yet he couldn't pinpoint from where.

He was tall, with sand-colored hair which was tied back in a ponytail. He had a slender build, but wasn't by any means physically weak. Expensive clothes covered his body and emphasized eyes so blue that they bordered on black. The man had aristocratic features that inspired a sense of respect and power, much like Draco's did. But… something was… off about the individual… Something Harry couldn't identify.

Harry took a hesitant step closer, damning everything to hell and turning his eyes golden, sharpening his senses as much as he could without training. He ignored the way Hermione gasped in a corner and how the entire Order fell quiet, watching the scene with curious eyes.

The scent of the stranger was familiar. It nagged at the back of Harry's mind, alerting him of danger, but Harry couldn't help but try and understand what was happening.

A reassuring, yet questioning hand settled between his shoulder blades and Harry felt Draco shift beside him. And then the other's eyes flashed golden and remained that way. Harry hissed and stepped back, his left hand snapping out and settling on Draco's stomach, pushing the blond backwards in a protective gesture.

"My, my, how you have developed," the stranger drawled mockingly.

His voice sent a shiver careering through the Gryffindor's body and he stepped back. Draco wrapped an arm around his lover, much to the surprise of everyone in the room with the exception of Snape and McGonagall.

"Sire," Harry spat the title viciously, stepping further back as Draco shifted his position and stepped in front of him.

**T.B.C.**

* * *

**(Very long) A/N 2:** First off, I'm sorry for the long gap between updates! But- I do hope the size of this chapter will alleviate your annoyance with me.

I can honestly say that this chapter has been the hardest I've had to write thus far. I was afraid of writing it at the beginning because of my constant thoughts that went along the lines of '_what if I screw this up?_' So I did what all teenagers do best: I procrastinated. But somewhere along the line, I realized that I was being unfair to all who read and (for some reason) enjoy this fic and I got my arse into gear.

It was difficult putting it on paper, what with all the information I wanted to give and with the changes in the dynamics that I wanted to make. But- in the end I had a draft that was about half a page long. The chapter obviously turned much longer that :p.

I may have fucked it up, but, then again, I may not have. That's up to you to decide. It's unlikely that I'll re-write the whole thing but an honest opinion is much appreciated.

I believe it's high time I round this up and tie all the ends so I'm estimating two more chapters for this fic. I already have the draft for the 6th chapter and some scenes written down. It won't be as big… But it'll be slightly more eventful as I'm aware this one's been quite boring (but necessary). I'll try having it up soon, though I'm not making any promises this time.

Until then, though… I'd appreciate some feedback. Lord knows I'm addicted to it.

Posted: _May 23, 2008_


	6. Chapter 6

**General warnings: **

1) This fic deals with **not-so-friendly language**, **blood** and **SLASH**. Slash as in boy/boy relationships, comprendre? Not your cup of tea, then go get coffee. _No_ flames accepted. **You have been warned.**

2) English is _not_ my mother tongue so please excuse possible mistakes and kindly point them out so that I may actually learn from them.

**Notes: **

1) Since I haven't read the HP books in English, I might have some of the spells and characters spelled wrong, as well as some of the magical creatures.

2) A tad OOC, because I needed to create my own version of Harry and Draco.

3) Deathly Hollows non-compliant.

**Disclaimer: **I own diddly squat.

**Summary: **It had been two weeks since they'd lost their most prized weapon… the prophesized child that should rid the world of its greatest threat, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived… Two weeks since the Order lost Harry Potter to darkness. HPDM slash. Vamp!fic

**A/N: **I know that technically, I have no excuse for the long time this story hasn't been updated, but, in my defense, my life was hectic. Since my last update, I've graduated high school, sat some of the most important exams in my life, got into college, got into driving school and started college not long ago. You can easily understand that life for me has been hectic. For all it's worth, though, I _am_ sorry.

Also, due to the long time I haven't been writing on this, I believe that some parts may be awkward. I gave it my best, though, and I can only hope that it counts for something, small contribution as it may be.

* * *

**Blood-Bound **

**Chapter 6**

'_Sire'_.

It was truly amazing how one little word could cause the sudden rise of tension in the room.

There was nothing more than stunned silence amongst the Order members. It was as though an explosion had just taken place and ringing shock was all there was left.

And then the silence was shattered by a low, rumbling chuckle that came from the older vampire. It was a sound that suddenly chilled everybody to the bone although it was anything but threatening. No, it was the implication of just _who_ that man was that seemed to pour ice in everyone's veins.

"Right you are," the creature spoke, ignoring the sudden shift in the air. He mock sighed in a wistful way, eyes trying to assess Harry who was hidden from view by Draco's frame. "Your power is still as sweet as always, my pet… I can feel it calling to me," the man said.

It was then that Draco seemed to shatter the shock in his mind. "You stay away from him," he growled, fingers tightening around Harry's wrist.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the Sire mocked, shaking his head in time with the sounds. "You'd make a good meal… As would your body make a good feast."

Harry hissed at this, fangs descending lower than usual, grazing his lower lip. A tiny drop of blood seemed to swell on his lip, but Harry paid it no mind. He couldn't afford to; not while that creature stood in front of him, looking for the entire world like the cat that got the cream.

The two vampires' eyes caught for a moment, and held, Harry's orbs filled with ire and blue ones shining with ill-hidden amusement. The sire laughed then, startling all with its sharpness and eeriness. And still, Harry held his position firm, determined not to show any signs of weakness, even while on the inside, he was near petrified with terror.

"Sire," Harry spat once again, trying to convey his contempt in that single word and hating the way his voice nearly broke at the end.

The other laughed again: "Call me Corbin, please. We were intimately acquainted after all, were we not?" There was a distinct note in the man's voice that made the Gryffindor feel sick.

It made him want to scream and to run and to hit something- but mostly it just made him want to curl into a tiny ball and hide away from the world, safe in his own embrace and silence. Draco's arm, slightly tightening around his waist, kept his instincts at bay and Harry drew strength from the small gesture, remembering that someone was there for him.

Corbin chuckled and the air shifted. Changed and molded and bent somehow and Harry's mind came to an abrupt halt. Numbness filled his body, slowly, but surely, eradicating the feel of Draco's touch and the presence of his body behind his. All of a sudden, Harry was shoved brutally in a dark place with no way out. It was like darkness was the only thing to exist in that place. He couldn't see anything around him, nor could he feel the ground or surrounding walls. It was as though he was floating in a sea of oppressing darkness and he hated it with all his being.

He tried struggling against it, fighting back: hissing and biting and scratching at the black veil- like a caged lion: striving for freedom. It seemed like forever until something happened finally. And the result was less of what Harry expected, but more of what he craved at that moment: peace. The darkness shifted, enveloped him and dragged him further into his mind, deeming him unconscious for what seemed like a blissful reprieve.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry was sore when he started regaining his senses. Every muscle in his body hurt and ached, as if it'd been under incredible stress and strain. His throat felt raw and dry and his eyelids seemed to have been glued together, as though someone didn't want him to ever wake up again.

His mind and magic resembled an enraged Horntail when the vampire's consciousness rose to the forefront. It was snarling, spitting, shoving and clawing at the oppressing presence in his mind, chanting '_get out, get_ away' without pause, the sounds primal and harsh, blending into each other easily and terrifyingly. The presence paid no heed to it, either because Harry was too weak, or because it couldn't hear him. So Harry frowned and pressed harder against it, circling it, searching for a weak spot in the darkness with the precision and care of a skilled predator.

And then he found it.

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched upwards as he launched his attack against the small crack of light in it, coiling his magic around the presence like a snake and ripped it to little shreds as it tried to get away from his grip. The shadow snarled and tried to fight back, losing ground and strength and Harry felt satisfied, for a moment, that he'd bested it - that he could do something on his own and not feel worthless or bad about it.

But then the presence seemed to liquefy and scatter around, slipping through his grasp in fear and dissipate like smoke in the wind, traceless and harmless until it was gone altogether. Harry didn't know if he should feel sorry or relieved by this.

A low chuckle alerted him of someone in the same room as him. Harry's eyes and senses snapped to attention, fatigue momentarily pushed back in a dark corner of his being.

The view that greeted him was stunning. He found himself on a chaise lounge, head towards a pair of open French doors which led to a small balcony, with railings made out of cast iron. Beyond the balcony, Harry could see Buckingham Palace in the distance and the River Thames on which's surface small lights reflected. Yet, stunning as the landscape proved to be, Harry couldn't afford to pay much heed to it.

"Finally awake, I see," said a deep voice and Harry turned towards it, fangs lengthening underneath sealed lips.

"Sire," he growled, gathering his magic around him like a blanket meant to protect him.

A flicker of something passed through Corbin's blue eyes, but it was gone before the Gryffindor could identify it. But he did like to think it had been worry.

Corbin smiled from his place against the opposite wall and strived to look casual, but Harry knew- Harry could _see_ the tension roiling through the other like a restless beast. Though Harry couldn't know if that tension was going to be his own downfall or Corbin's. He couldn't know, because the other could be restraining himself from attacking Harry, from tearing into him with viciousness only wild animals could display. So Harry held still for a bit, until the tension in his own body made his muscles shake.

He wanted to strike, to lash out and inflict some damage onto the man that had caused him so much pain and damage. And he wanted to run as well. Run as far away as he possibly could, to escape the possibility of another life-changing attack, yet his muscles seemed locked, unable to decide if they should fight or take flight.

Corbin's smile turned into horrifying laugh that nearly sent Harry running for the hills. His Sire's eyes trained on him seemed to pin him down, though, and so Harry fought against it. Against the control the creature had over him.

Corbin's laughter died a sudden death, a cold mask slipping onto his features, changing from forced amusement to blankness with the practiced ease of an insane person. Harry shivered despite himself and felt the tension mount within him as he started moving: slowly and cautiously, as not to trigger any sort of reaction from his creator.

His bare feet hit the cold marble floor and he rose, his green orbs never leaving the other's, walls of magic shimmering around his mind in a protective bubble meant to keep away any intrusion.

Corbin laughed again, sending chills careering through the boy's body. "My, my… the alleged Savior of the Wizarding World," he said, mockingly. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the powerful Muggleborn I was supposed to find was, in fact, the Boy Who Lived."

Harry stood stock still, trying to process what was being said to him. At first, things didn't make a lick of sense- but then it dawned to him that Corbin was maybe talking about his turning: about the reason behind what he was now.

Corbin smirked: "See, pet… I was drawn to your power. Magic," he took a deep breath and opened his arms wide, a maniacal glint in his eyes: "magic calls to us. Like a siren's song, if you will. It draws us in and entrances us. We want it, and what we want, we shall have."

The vampire laughed again, throwing his head back, and Harry couldn't help but hope that the arch of his Sire's neck would suddenly break and that he'd die and stay that way. But Corbin didn't die, and Harry was still just standing there, unable to move because maybe, _maybe_ he would find some answers to his questions.

"Imagine my shock, when I finally found the one on whose head the Dark Lord placed a hefty reward," said the creature, now looking at Harry once more.

"Then why turn me?" Harry hated the way his voice sounded so hoarse and how his throat felt all scratchy, yet still he pressed on: "Why turn me, why not hand me over to the Dark side?"

Corbin smiled a slow, terrible smile: "I wanted you for myself. I wanted your power, I wanted to feast from it, wanted your body writhing beneath me. I couldn't deny myself the pleasures you gave me, Harry."

Harry felt sick, and he may have given in to the sickness, had Corbin not started circling him, like a predator circled its prey, and Harry had to focus on that, had to concentrate on not being caught off guard again.

"Sweet little Harry," crooned the other, closing in.

Harry's instincts started shouting at him to do something. To run as fast as he could, until Corbin was far behind and he was safe, maybe in Draco's arms.

Draco…

"What did you do to the others?" Harry demanded, pushing his fear back and his anger forth.

Annoyance filtered on the vampire's face for a brief moment, and for some unexplainable reason, Harry felt reassured because he somehow knew that everybody was safe, if not unharmed.

And then Harry didn't have time to think anymore because Corbin_ pounced_ –there was no other word for it: slamming his weight into Harry and shoving the young man against the nearest wall with brutal force. Harry's head snapped back, hitting the wall behind him with a sickening crack_,_ at the same as the air left his lungs in a sharp whoosh.

He was dizzy for a moment, dark shapes filtering and dancing around the edge of his vision and bile rose in his throat, but the feel of the cold body pressing against his held him grounded and prevented him from losing himself to panic and pain.

"Fuck," he cursed, feeling Corbin circle his wrists with his hands and hold onto them firmly.

Corbin chuckled darkly. "Yes," he purred, "that's the general idea."

It wasn't the brightest thing to say, really, for those words kicked Harry's mind into gear after a moment of frozen, terrified shock.

He growled: "Not if I can help it."

And then his knee rose sharply, hitting Corbin in the family jewels with deadly accuracy and with all his strength. He pushed the other's body away with all his might and sent a kick to Corbin's face, catching him in the jaw, and then he ran, wishing to be anywhere but where he was at the moment.

In retrospect, Harry suspected he could have killed himself by doing that, because no sooner had he focused his will into going away that he found himself in a park, behind a pair of bushes, on the other side of the Thames River, falling on his knees as his vision clouded over.

And then he was running before his mind had caught up with what his body was doing. He didn't know where he was running towards, only that he needed to run as fast and as far as possible and hope that, somehow, he'd make it out of this nightmare.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Draco hadn't known what hit him at first. Everything had happened much too fast and much too confusing for him to understand what was going on. All he was aware of was the sudden lack of Harry in his arms and the sudden, almost blinding pain which bloomed from his jaw and temple and spread through the rest of his head. He could hear the others around him: shouting and flinging curses. And then all he heard was silence; blissful, welcomed silence.

Someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him on his back carefully and when had he been laying sideways? Draco decided it didn't matter, but he was intrigued by the warm tickle of fluid running down the side of his face.

"Draco?" came a sharp voice, laced with veiled concern.

Draco opened his eyes a bit and came face to face with an overlarge nose and a curtain of black, greasy locks that framed dark onyx eyes. A strangled noise escaped his throat which Draco couldn't determine if it was from the twinge of pain that shot through his skull, or if it came from distress at having to see Snape this up close and personal.

The tip of a hard, cold wand was pressed against his skull, followed by a whispered incantation and a twinge of magic and Draco's headache disappeared, leaving behind just a dull throb.

Draco went cross-eyed as a sallow hand was thrust into his face. He growled, but grabbed the proffered member nonetheless, pulling himself up with its assistance. A quick scan of the room showed no major damage, but for a few burning spots on the wall and floor, undoubtedly caused by a few ill-aimed burning hexes. Then Draco's stomach did a weird little flip that left him feeling nauseous and sick and wanting to crawl in a very dark place and never hear anything of the world ever again.

"Where's Potter?" he asked, striving to slip beneath his cold mask: the one reserved for the outer world – the world that would throw him in the darkest pits of hell because of his heritage.

It didn't quite work, and Draco could feel worry creep into his tone as though forced in there by the continuous twisting in his gut. He could feel the eyes of the Order members on him, watching him calculatingly and warily, and Draco thought, ridiculously almost, that he nearly didn't care. That for once, he was entitled to be his own persona.

"Why'd you bring him here?" he asked Snape, the only one he nearly trusted in this whole mess.

Snape regarded him coolly, grounding him with his gaze and presence. "I didn't know. We thought he would be able to change Potter's view on vampirism," said Snape finally, a note of emotion in his voice.

Draco liked to think it was regret as his mind tried to wrap itself around the insane, hysteric laughter that threatened to spill from his lips. This whole thing was crazy: from Snape bringing Harry's Sire into the picture to Draco's mounting panic that threatened to crack what little he had left of his composure.

Draco wasn't aware that he'd drifted off until a pair of hands dug into his shoulders and shook him, as though trying to stir some semblance of sense into him. Grey eyes snapped onto Moody's face, and he wondered, briefly, when the other man had approached him.

"Snap back to it, boy!" Moody said in threatening tones. "We need to get Potter back here immediately."

Draco didn't want to point out that part of this whole insanity was the ex-Auror's fault.

"How?"

Draco turned towards Molly Weasley as soon as she spoke the question. His eyes drifted behind her, towards the Weasel and Granger, huddled close together in a dark corner of the room, watching with dull, blank eyes as the Order came alive around them.

Draco sneered at them. He knew those looks. It meant nothing good was about to come out anytime soon. The hairs on the back of Draco's neck started prickling uncomfortably and he shifted his eyes, coming to the awkward realization that everyone in the room was watching him, and that Snape had a rather amused expression on his face.

Draco arched an elegant eyebrow. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said," Snape sneered, though Draco could tell that he was enjoying the whole situation immensely, "That your recent bond with Potter would lead us straight to him."

Draco stared blankly and uncomprehendingly at his godfather. "For God's sake, Mr. Malfoy, you've had intercourse with Mr. Potter have you not?" snapped the professor.

There was a horrible, shocked pause, all eyes turning incredulous as they watched the teen. Draco blushed deep pink, his skin tone not allowing him to turn crimson. A strange sound, similar to a death rattle, drew his attention momentarily towards the Weasel, who was apparently about to die an untimely -though not entirely unwelcome -death by air. Draco mentally offered a small cheer, before the realization that _Snape_, of all people, somehow knew he'd had sex with the Chosen One sank further in, and Draco wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Lupin was the first to voice his opinion through and incredulous: "Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco turned defensive at this: "Well, we _did,_" he said in a tone resembling a small child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and refused to admit he'd done the deed.

There was another pause and Draco took the opportunity to continue praying for death.

"Did you at least use protection?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

Draco and Weasel both choked and spluttered at this whilst the rest of the Order members turned incredulous eyes on her.

"I believe," Snape said in icy tones, "that we were trying to find a way to bring our wayward Golden Boy back."

Moody growled from his place against the fireplace, "And have him explain why he attacked us in the first place."

Draco focused his attention on his godfather. "Potter attacked us?" he asked, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Snape's lips thinned. "If you dunderheads would have bothered to read anything about vampires, you would have known that there's a certain ability some vampires have called '_mind-bending'_. It is called that way for the creature has the ability to bend others' wills and minds to his own wishes. The Potter brat was subjected to that very power his Sire seems to possess. "

"So you're saying Potter wasn't aware of what he was doing?" Draco asked, striving to remain calm.

Snape smirked, "Ten points to Slytherin."

Draco nodded, relieved, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"What do I have to do?" he asked, low.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Draco sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, breathing deeply and searching Harry's magical signature in his body, trying to track down the blood he had willingly taken from the vampire- the blood which had been willingly offered to him, thus creating a one of a kind bond between vampire and donor. A _blood bind_ -as Snape had called it in more academic terms- which established a permanent connection between them. It wasn't… mating, as most figured… But it was a close thing.

"Concentrate, Draco!" Snape snapped, irritated by the boy's lack of success in tracking Potter down.

Draco ground his teeth together, but said nothing, focusing harder, wrapping his fingers around his wand in annoyance.

Draco realized his mistake a moment too late when the sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube overtook his senses, before his feet hit hard, cold pavement and the cold night air penetrated his clothing.

No sooner had he sensed the abrupt change in décor that he was run into by a solid body that sent him barreling towards the ground. Draco cursed loudly as the person tumbled over him, causing the air to escape his lungs in a sharp whoosh.

Draco had expected the body to scramble into a sitting position, or at least try to move away from him and apologize – but the person didn't, so Draco was rather shocked to find it clinging to him, panting and shivering, hot breath ghosting over his neck.

"Excuse me," he began, indignant, tugging at the person's locks in the darkness.

"Draco?"

Whatever protest Draco might have had died a sudden death at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Potter?" he asked and the body clung to him tighter, nonsensical mumblings spilling from his its mouth.

"We need to get away, we need to move," Harry babbled on and on, barely breathing between words.

Draco nodded and looked around, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings: a park near Thames with barely lit pathways and too exposed for any of them to be safe. Draco's grip tightened on his wand as he rose to his feet, pulling the vampire with him.

"Come on," Draco said, starting to walk towards the park's exit, pulling Harry with him, taking comfort in the feel of the other's hand in his and wishing he could stop the other boy from shaking apart – wishing that he could take some of the fear and trauma upon himself.

It was then that the thought entered his mind and Draco stopped dead in his tracks, turning on his heel to face Harry, eyes scanning him at their best ability in the surrounding darkness.

"Are you hurt? He didn't… touch you, did he?" Draco asked, almost reluctantly, as though fearing the answer.

But Harry shook his head in the negative, wrapping death-cold fingers around Draco's wrists, and Draco became aware, for the first time, that Harry was barefoot and wearing nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

"We've got to get you out of the cold," Draco said worriedly, taking Harry's hands in his for a brief moment.

Harry nodded and allowed himself to be pulled by his hand by Draco while Draco could only think about getting away, getting to safety and staying there, never having to think about the dangers that lurked around them- stalking them and hunting them down like wolfs hounded sheep.

They walked in strained silence, listening to the sounds of the night, and Draco knew, by the rigid posture the vampire had adopted, that Harry was stretching his senses -like a web- around the area, trying to find if they were followed.

And then Harry tensed further, the hand in Draco's clenching around his fingers painfully, grinding the bones together and freezing the blood in Draco's veins, like ice had been poured into him. Draco turned and watched as the vampire's face paled further and his eyes grew wider, breaths coming out more rapidly. Draco gulped and held his ground, waiting for Harry to say something – hoping that somehow Harry felt a shift in the magic surrounding them, and not a threat.

After a few moments of tense anticipation, Harry looked at him with large, fearful eyes, and said, in a soft voice: "Run!"

Draco didn't need to be told twice: he just reacted, his body seemingly functioning without his mind's consent, moving as fast as it could, dragging Harry with it and not pausing for breath - driven by instinct and adrenalin and the sheer will to survive the night.

Draco felt Harry's hand slip from his, and for one insane moment, he wanted to keep going, wanted to keep running and never look back until he couldn't run anymore and his legs gave under him from exhaustion. But he didn't. He turned back and located Harry, struggling to get up from where he'd tripped over a brick. Draco noticed then that they weren't in the park anymore. They were on a street, tall buildings and street lamps surrounding them, casting both shadow and light over them, confusing his eyes and mind as he tried futilely to understand just how they'd gotten there.

But then there was no more time to think, because Harry had gotten up and was shouting at him to go, to keep running, pushing his shoulder and slipping into pace with him, both of them chasing down the street like a pair of lunatics.

"What's after us?" Draco asked, breathless and tired and wishing he could just rest for a moment.

Harry glanced at him, but kept going. "Corbin," was all he said.

Draco understood, and ran faster, pushing past the sudden heaviness of his limbs, desperately wanting to go faster instead of the impossibly slow speed his legs seemed to be capable of.

But then it was all useless. Useless as a force crashed into them, sending them sprawling in a dark alley, rolling on the hard cold pavement, scratching and bruising their bodies as if they'd been caught by the blast of a small explosion.

Draco lay still on the ground, breathing heavily through his mouth and listening to Harry's panting breaths a short distance away. He took a small moment to be grateful they hadn't been separated somehow by the blast of magic that had shot towards them, but the moment was cut mercilessly short by the sound of calm, steady footfalls coming closer and closer towards them. They filled Draco's hearing like the hypnotic sound of a clock, endlessly ticking away and then, like the end of one's heartbeat, they stopped, leaving behind ringing silence, tense with anticipation.

A low chuckle shattered the silence, like the sudden sound of thunder filling the air before a storm: "You are going to regret that."

Draco's heart skipped a beat and his body went rigid with tension and fear as he peered up through his fringe at their attacker, wondering, briefly, is this was what others felt when they said they looked death in the eye.

* * *

**A/N 2:** One more chapter to go! For those still interested in this, feedback will probably get the next installment here faster (knows she's shamelessly bribing for feedback)

Posted: _October 15, 2008_


	7. Chapter 7

**General warnings: **

1) This fic deals with **not-so-friendly language**, **blood** and **SLASH**. Slash as in boy/boy relationships, comprendre? Not your cup of tea, then go get coffee. _No_ flames accepted. **You have been warned.**

2) English is _not_ my mother tongue so please excuse possible mistakes and kindly point them out so that I may actually learn from them.

**Notes: **

1) Since I haven't read the HP books in English, I might have some of the spells and characters spelled wrong, as well as some of the magical creatures.

2) A tad OOC, because I needed to create my own version of Harry and Draco.

3) Deathly Hollows non-compliant.

**Disclaimer: **I own diddly squat.

**Summary:**It had been two weeks since they'd lost their most prized weapon… the prophesized child that should rid the world of its greatest threat, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived… Two weeks since the Order lost Harry Potter to darkness. HPDM slash. Vamp!fic

**A/N:**Wow… Nine months since my last update. Really sorry about that. Truthfully, I'd had no intention of finishing this at all. But- I somehow got my body parts into gear.

There was no beta on this chapter, so if anything's amiss… You'll know who to blame.

Feedback, of course, is welcome at the end of this chapter.

But before you start, I'd like to thank everyone for sticking to this story, even though I know it's not brilliant. It just means a lot to me that I've had supporters throughout this. Thank you!

* * *

**Blood-Bound **

**Chapter 7 **

Harry didn't dare move an inch. It was as if his body was paralyzed with ice-cold fear that coursed through his veins like poison: deadly and almost painful in its intensity. But this time, it was different.

It was different, because Harry wasn't afraid just for himself now. He was afraid for Draco too. Draco who lay a few feet away from him, whose heartbeat filled Harry's hearing and whose sweet scent wafted outwards, emphasized by the ugly gash marring the blond's temple, cloying his fair hair and trickling blood down the side of his face. Harry couldn't remember how Draco'd gotten hurt. He'd run into him like that and it was then that Harry's mind had a moment of clarity: it was Corbin who'd done that to the Slytherin.

Harry felt a surge of sheer hate rise against his Sire. He hated him, hated the way he'd taken over his life without so much as a for-your-notice, hated how he kept controlling him, even if he wasn't around. But Harry knew, deep down, that part of the blame was his as well. He wasn't able to stand up and defend himself – he was weak, and had to rely on Draco and Snape's help because he couldn't deal with his problems alone.

Harry rose to his feet, swaying slightly and wincing as shards of broken glass cut into the soles of his bare feet. He raised his eyes and met Corbin's. They were golden, as were his Sire's.

Harry heard Draco cough as he moved slowly, like an old man with rheumatism and aching joints. Harry wished he would stop, because he didn't want him to draw unnecessary attention to himself. Corbin was after him, not after Draco. Draco would make just the perfect toy: something the vampire could use to torment Harry with - and Harry didn't want that. He didn't need another person to die because of him.

Corbin smiled a wicked smile and Harry couldn't suppress a shiver from running down his spine.

"You know there's no use running, Harry," he said mockingly, taunting the Gryffindor with the ease of someone who loved hurting others.

Harry said nothing and took a step back as Corbin took one forward, engaging in a sort of territorial dance. Corbin's smile widened at this and Harry knew that the fear was showing through his eyes. He thought of running because –for one insane moment- he forgot he wasn't alone in that alley, surrounded by trash cans and filthy carton boxes and broken glass. He hated himself for thinking it the next second as his eyes slid onto Draco's pale form.

His eyes locked with his for a brief second that seemed like an eternity and like nothing all at once. Harry swallowed and looked back at Corbin, locking eyes with him again. Defiant this time, just like the last time he'd seen the Dark Lord. No, he wasn't going to be weak this time. Not when there was so much more at stake now.

He could feel Draco move some more, cough again and could hear his joints popping. But he was alive, if a little banged up. And in danger.

"Just like the coward that you are, Sire," Harry said with courage he did not feel. "Corner us and toy with us just to feel like you have some power. So sad, really…"

Corbin's fangs rose to the forefront, gleaming dangerously in the pale street light. Harry never felt so reckless and so suicidal in his life. He supposed it was a good thing. It didn't give him the time to think of all the things that could go wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

Corbin laughed suddenly. It sounded forced and terrible and it made Harry's skin crawl. It sounded like a man whose madness took over, clouding his already too frail judgment and making him even more unbalanced than usual. Harry could smell the danger in the air. Like a ticking bomb, ready to explode and wipe out everything within a two mile radius. It made him feel sick to the stomach.

"Brave, brave fool. Or is it stupid, stupid fool?" Corbin tilted his head mockingly, golden eyes sharp with hunger and power.

Harry opened his mouth to shoot back something nasty. It paid to be reckless sometimes. If only to see Corbin's eyes narrow like that. Harry smiled dangerously, pushing back his fear. It was like fighting the cold war with himself. And it was distracting him, because the next thing he knew, he was pushed back against the hard, cold brick of the building behind them. He could practically feel his shoulder blades grind against the wall through the thin layer of his T-shirt.

"_Incarcerous_!"

The voice sounded terribly loud in the night, the light of the spell blinding, and –incredibly- Corbin fell to the ground, silent and angry and struggling against pale-glowing binds.

For one shocked moment, Harry was motionless. The sound of his breathing seemed to fill the air, pushing any other sound to the side and blending with the rush of blood in his ears. And then somebody was grabbing his hand and pulling him into motion. Harry followed blindly, the shock still there, preventing him from thinking much of anything except '_oh Merlin, oh Merlin, ohMerlinohMerlinohMerlin'._

"Potter!"

Draco's voice penetrated through the hectic haze and Harry realized with a start that he'd stopped moving and Draco's strength wasn't enough to pull his weight as well. He ran then. He ran, pushed by the frantic look in Draco's eyes and by the fear coursing now through him like wildfire.

"Where are we going?" It occurred to him that it was a most idiotic question to ask at the moment. Anywhere would be just about right, so long as it was far, _far_ away from Corbin.

0000000000

In retrospect, Harry should have known not to run along the river. The mist rising from it obscured their view and the street lanterns did nothing to help them. Nor did the sound carrying over water, making their footsteps echo loudly into the night.

In retrospect, Harry should have known to clear his head and expand his senses. That way, they might have stood a better chance.

0000000000

"Ouch!" Draco cried and jumped on one foot, nearly splaying himself on the hard pavement. Harry caught his arm deftly and steadied him, the familiar smell of blood invading his nostrils.

He could almost taste it. "What's the matter?" He asked anxiously.

"Stepped on a bloody piece of glass, that's the matter," Draco snapped, hurt and frustrated, looking down at his left foot.

Harry followed his eyes and it was then that he noticed Draco wearing nothing but a pair of socks. Filled with dirt and blood. It sent Harry's stomach roiling.

"Shit. Can't you Apparate us?"

Draco shook his head. "Don't know how. I'd splinch us both."

Harry didn't want to mention that splinching sounded a hell of a lot better than being mauled to death by his insane sire.

"Such delicious scent," Corbin popped out of nowhere – dirty, angry and looking every inch the terrifying monster that he was.

Draco and Harry both froze, wide, horrified eyes on the vampire. And then Harry wrapped his hand around Draco's wand one and forcefully pointed it at Corbin.

"_Reducto_!"

The spell hit Corbin square in the chest, sending him staggering back a few feet.

Harry reacted on instinct. He shoved Draco into the river and ran in the opposite direction, not even waiting for the splash.

He heard Corbin's growl and felt him following. Harry knew he couldn't outrun him. Not now, when his sire was livid. So he tried to outrun him far enough, until he got Draco away from danger.

At least that was the plan.

The boulder seemed to have popped up out of nowhere, hitting both his legs with brutal force. He cried out, the bones snapping under the impact, sending him sprawling on the hard cement. His chest hit the ground, rubbing against tiny rocks, hidden in the grass.

Harry moaned in pain, winded and unable to move. Everything seemed to hurt.

A hard, merciless pressure settled between his shoulder blades, pressing him down and constricting the air out of his lungs.

"You're beginning to be a nuisance, pet. I don't much appreciate that," Corbin growled, practically shaking with anger and anticipation.

Corbin's fingers snaked into Harry's hair, cold and greasy and Harry felt like he could throw up at the mere touch. He squirmed, trying to pull away, and the fingers tightened painfully.

"Get off!" He snapped, struggling further.

Corbin chuckled, low and amused and Harry pretty much wanted to curse him so bad that it would take him a century just to put his eyeballs back together.

"No, I don't think I will. You see, pet… your blood… It calls to me. You power is simply mouthwatering," Corbin said, leaning down onto Harry's back, his knee digging into Harry's back sharply and painfully.

"Go… screw yourself," Harry panted under the strain, trying to think past the panic in his head.

Corbin chuckled again, breath tickling Harry's ear as the vampire's fangs grazed his skin.

"NO!" Harry screamed, trashing wildly.

The fangs pierced his skin now. "No," he choked out, barely a whisper.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

The heavy weight was suddenly gone from Harry's back, followed by a deep _thud_ a few feet away. Harry's head came up sharply, wide eyes landing easily on his sire's form, crawling on the wet grass. The older vampire seemed surprised and angry.

Harry shivered at the sight, just as another, louder spell hit the creature. "_Stupefy_!"

Harry waited for movement, but Corbin lay motionless in the same spot. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Wary eyes turned to look over his shoulder. Seeing Draco nearly made him weep with joy.

The Slytherin stood tall and fearless on Thames' shore, dripping water on the gray pavement, holing his wand unwaveringly. For one insane fraction of a second, Harry wanted to laugh and laugh and _laugh_. Draco was a mess.

"You okay?" Draco called out, his eyes never leaving Corbin's prone form.

"Yeah," called Harry, shakily.

Harry briefly thought about Corbin's defenselessness. It would be only so easy to walk up to him and bleed him dry…

Harry was on his feet even before he'd made a conscious decision to move. His feet carried him towards his sire, ignoring the sharp pains of torn skin and dirt getting into the wounds. And just as he was leaning down, fangs descending and eyes golden, the thirst pumping through his body like adrenalin, Harry stopped, tilting his head to the side.

"Go on, finish me off," Corbin ground out, fighting the spell.

Harry smiled a terrible smile. He saw a trace of fear in Corbin's eyes.

"I'm not a murderer. Not like you."

And with that, he turned around, and Draco yelled '_Sectumsempra_!', and all was eerily quiet.

"What now?" Draco asked, exhausted.

Harry sighed and looked at the river. "We wait for the sunrise."

Draco nodded and cast another '_Stupefy_' for good measure, and together they watched the first rays of sun slither over Corbin's body.

Watching the mangled figure catch fire made Harry feel free for the first time since he'd been turned.

It was a liberating thought.

"C'mon," Draco said, and kissed Harry's hair. "Let's go home."

The last flames died out and Harry nodded. He was ready to go now. He was ready to let go.

* * *

Harry knocked on Hermione's door tiredly. He didn't want to have this confrontation now - didn't have the energy for it. But it was a necessary evil, and Harry was all too aware of it. And he owed it to Ron and Hermione. They were his friends through thick and thin.

The door opened with a soft squeak Harry doubted the others could hear. Tired or not, he was still high-strung from the earlier events. But He was suddenly surprised to find himself in the arms of Hermione, her bushy hair tickling his nose and filling him with her scent.

"Hey, 'Mione," he said softly, squeezing her back, gently.

"Oh, Harry!"

Harry could smell the salt on her and hear the tears in her voice. He squeezed her briefly and let go, stepping into the room, his eyes landing on Ron.

Ron was… Well, he was everything Harry expected. Pissed to high heaven and glaring at him from his position on the bed. Harry didn't know if their friendship could survive this. It was too much, too fast.

"Hi, Ron."

Ron bristled but said nothing of consistency.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione exclaimed. "We were so worried about you! When we heard what happened…"

Harry managed a tight smile. "You know about everything?"

Hermione's eyes softened. "Yes, Harry. We overheard Molly and Lupin talking. We know… About Corbin. About what he did to you."

Harry nodded. He expected nothing less, but it didn't mean he liked it. He hated the very idea of his friends knowing the sordid details. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out that way."

"Just like you didn't want us to know you were shagging Malfoy?"

Ron's voce was hard and cold, like thick ice: Unbreakable and unyielding. It froze Harry's insides, numbing him. He barely heard Hermione scold his friend.

"No, I want to know why he did it," Ron's voice cut through the haze. "I want to know why fucking _Malfoy_ seems like such a bloody great idea in the first place! He hates the bloke!"

And Harry snapped. "I do not!"

The intensity of his voice caught his friend's attention. "I love him," he continued, softly.

Hermione looked like she might cry again. Ron looked murderous.

"No, Harry," Hermione said, gently, almost pityingly.

Golden eyes turned to her. "Oh, yeah? How the hell would you know how I feel? How the hell would you know how I've _been_ feeling for the past couple of months?"

Hermione did cry. "Because you don't feel it! Don't you get it, Harry? It's an illusion!"

Harry's rage turned cold, much like Ron's. Deadly. "How so?"

"I've read about it, Harry. As soon as I knew what had happened… The blood Malfoy gave you created an instant connection to him. It's like he took over the siring for you. What you feel for him… The protectiveness, the trust… the love? It's not real. It never was real. It's all in your head."

Harry's insides churned and Harry thought he could've thrown up, if it were possible for him to do so. "So what are you saying, 'Mione?" he forced himself to ask. "That what I'm feeling is a lie?" Hermione was silently watching him with pleading eyes. "You're telling me that I l- that I like Draco because of his _blood_?"

"Yes."

The matter-of-fact tone was like a punch. It sent Harry reeling and seething.

"The blood he gave you created half a binding spell. Blood magic. When you gave blood back, it created a blood bind. And I know you gave him blood. He couldn't have found you otherwise… and Snape knew it."

"And how would Snape know such a thing?"

Hermione looked down, a blush spreading over her cheeks. "Because of the sex. Snape… Snape knew that there wouldn't have been a snowball's chance in hell of anyone touching you that way so soon. But the half-spell… It made you susceptible to being touched intimately."

Harry felt sick. "What?"

"You were raped, Harry. There's no logical explanation for why you'd spread your legs to someone you disliked," said Hermione, eyes flashing.

The silence was thick now.

"So if Harry and I were to sleep together-" Ron started.

"Then he'd probably freak and curse to hell and back. The whole thing… It was fabricated by Harry's emotional state. He was scared and abused and starving. Draco came on a shining white horse, fed him and offered comfort. It's not uncommon for fledglings and sires to form sexual relationships based on instinct. Harry perceived Draco as his sire… It was a natural course guided by misguided hormones."

"That's a lie," Harry ground out and turned around, leaving the room quietly and shaking.

* * *

"Draco, I need to speak with you."

Harry's curt tone set Draco's nerves on edge. Something was up, and for some reason, Draco suspected Granger. He nodded and motioned for Harry to come in and close the door. With a wave of his wand, he locked it shut and cast a silencing charm.

"You okay," he asked softly.

Harry leaned against the rickety wood, feeling the splinters against his shirt. "Why do I feel like I love you?" asked Harry, low and cold.

Draco took in a deep breath, and Harry could see him shutting off. It was like visible walls erecting themselves in a complex defense mechanism. And with sudden clarity, he knew. And dear Merlin did it hurt.

"It's the blood, isn't it?"

His voice came out choked, and Draco looked exhausted suddenly. Much older than Harry thought possible. And Harry couldn't muster up an ounce of pity for him.

"Yes," came the soft confirmation.

Harry nodded, almost self-derisively. "You knew."

It wasn't a question.

Draco swallowed thickly and Harry's eyes followed the movement. Draco nodded.

"Why'd you do it then?" Harry suddenly exploded. "Was it to humiliate me further? Do you hate me that much?"

"No!"

The vehemence in Draco's tone cut Harry off, and the vampire looked at him with golden eyes. Draco's own eyes were icy, angry, hurt and defensive.

"No, I don't hate you. But I do like you. And I know that I could love you."

Harry gave no outward sign to that statement. On the inside, though, his thoughts and emotions were in a colossal turmoil. "You've got a funny way of showing it."

Something flickered in Draco's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. "Would you have given me a chance otherwise?"

"Not likely," Harry admitted after a moment of silence. "But you took the choice away from me. You're no better than Corbin was. No better than Voldemort either, Draco. That Mark of his… You deserve it."

Draco was off the bed in a flash, pinning Harry to the door. "I'm _not_ like any of them!"

Harry felt sorry for a minute. He wanted to reach out and comfort the only anchor he'd known in a world of madness. He didn't though. Because what little stability he'd had turned out to be phony. A fiction of his unnatural nature.

Draco's fingers loosened around his bloodied shirt. "I wanted you to see _me_ so badly. I just wanted a chance. And I took what I was offered."

"Slytherin to the very core I see," Harry commented offhandedly.

Draco sneered. "I took the cards I was dealt with. But I never lied to you about anything."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "You just hid important facts about my feelings."

"I wanted you."

"You should have told me from the very beginning!" Harry yelled at him, pushing Draco back and watching him stumble on the moth-eaten rug. "You .."

Draco fumed and said nothing.

"Such a coward, eh, Malfoy?"

"Go to hell," Draco managed.

Harry chuckled humorlessly and walked towards him. Draco didn't move, awaiting what was to happen, waiting on Harry's every move even though he wanted to scream and hurt him and protect himself. He knew he deserved whatever was coming though, and he would be fair- this time.

Harry invaded his personal space, pushing him backwards until Draco hit the windowsill. Golden eyes met his and Harry leaned in with bared fangs. Draco didn't anticipate the sudden flash of pain as the cuspids punctured his vein. And then the pleasure hit as Harry sucked a mouthful of his blood. But Harry was gone as soon as he's been there, his wound healed and Harry's bloodied lips were suddenly on his own.

The kiss was hard and fast and over much too soon. It tasted of copper and Harry and pain and Draco felt he might shatter under it. But it was over, just like the bite had been, and Harry was on the other side of the room before he could gather his bearings.

"I never want to see you again, Draco. I never want you to touch me again, or come near me again," Harry said in a deadly tone and, even though his voice cracked at the end, Draco knew this was it. It was over.

He closed his eyes. He'd lost to his own selfishness, and taken Harry down with him as well. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the empty room, because Harry's powerful presence was no longer there with him.

He was alone.

* * *

Epilogue

"Are you ready, Mr. Potter?"

Snape's easy drawl brought him to the present.

"Yes sir."

Snape nodded and Harry watched the gathered Order members quietly for a moment. Draco wasn't there, and Harry felt agony at the thought for a moment. It was better that way though. Draco had betrayed him, and he couldn't accept that. It was a done deal.

Before he could open his mouth and say goodbye, Snape had Apparated them both in the middle of nowhere. It was dark and the forest they were in was silent. Not even the wind howled.

"Where are we?"

Harry couldn't seem to muster up the energy to be annoyed.

"Safe," came the curt reply.

"Professor?"

He could muster up the curiosity instead.

Harry hesitated, but had Snape's attention now and he couldn't back down. "What happened to Lacrima Malfoy?"

Snape's glare could have spontaneously combusted him. "She gave up."

Harry nodded. He'd been expecting it somehow. Not many of Corbin's victims ever lasted. He said nothing more of the matter, though. Snape wouldn't have appreciated it.

"Why'd you bring my sire to headquarters?"

The question was out of Harry's mouth before he knew it.

Snape stopped, the cast of his shoulders tense. Harry thought he might get himself cursed after all. "I didn't know," better than being cursed- an answer. "I had hoped… that he could help you overcome your untrained senses and skills. I had no idea…"

Harry nodded in the darkness. "You'd have killed him yourself. For her…"

Harry's mouth just didn't seem to know when to cram a sock in it. But it was too late, for Snape whirled on him, the tip of his wand illuminating Harry's face dimly. "Yes," he growled. "Now, Mr. Potter, if you don't want to scrub cauldrons for the rest of eternity, I suggest you shut up and follow me."

Harry's eyes narrowed and turned golden, but he nodded again. Snape was his protector now, for whatever brief a time.

In a world without allies, Harry's only chance of surviving was to understand what he'd become. And Snape was the only one able to teach him, far away from the damaging influence of the Order. Or Draco's.

Draco. Harry hated himself just a little bit for wanting the Slytherin there with him. But much as he hated feeling this way-

He hated Draco more.

And he hated knowing that was a lie too.

**The End**

* * *

A/N 2: That's all folks! Whew! What a drag! Sorry again for taking so long.

Feedback would be lovely.

Posted: _June 29, 2009_


	8. Author's Note Please read

This is just an _Author's Note_. It's one of those I'd actually want you to read, so I'd appreciate five minutes of your time, kay?

People have been asking me about a sequel to this fic, even _after _I posted the new fic. As to avoid any further questioning: the sequel's already up. It's called _Will Bound_, and it follows Harry after the recent events of BB.

Also, I'd like to thank everyone for sticking with this fic, even though it had a shitty ending ;)

*huggles* Thanks guys!

-Ari


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